


The Secret Changes within Bella Swan

by SwedenSara



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwedenSara/pseuds/SwedenSara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bella, who has been married to Edward for a few years, finds herself being someone she doesn't want to be. She wants this to change and takes a journey whithin herself to find the girl she used to be and the love she used to feel for Edward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you LouderThanSirens and JillM12, my betas on this chapter! JillM12: thanks for the encouragement. Without you it would suck even more... Thanks to hunterhunting for helping me find Project Team Beta and to chrometurtle for offering to look at my story.**

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**The Secret Changes Within Bella Swan - Prologue**

I don't know when it happened. I only know that at some point, somewhere along the line, things had changed.

I used to look at him thinking he was the most beautiful man alive. I used to not be able to keep my hands off him. I used to love him. Suddenly I didn't think he was the most beautiful man alive anymore. These days I preferred not to touch him. When did I begin to look at him so differently?

I remember the party where we met. Everybody stood up and introduced themselves by name and relationship status, because those were the two most important things to know. His name was Edward Cullen, and he had a girlfriend. "Sort of," he said. That made me wonder: _what does "sort of" mean?_ He was kind of dorky, cute and shy; the kind of guy that accidentally tipped his chair over when he stood up, and then got embarrassed by it. He wore a suit and a shirt, the only one not wearing jeans and a tee. It was a bit weird, and I liked it. His brown tousled hair had red streaks in it, I could tell in the lights by the bar. His eyes were green like spring leaves, but I didn't notice until the Caps game when we started to throw bottle tops at each other.

I was a regular at the bar, being one of the students working there for no money, besides a few beer bongs that were usually spent the next week. We were the part of the student union who wanted to give other students a place to go for a beer after classes and exams. Everybody knew us; everybody wanted to be our friend. He later said it was the beer caps game that made him really notice me. He dismissed me until then, not because he wasn't interested, but because he didn't think he had a chance. I had my boys there: some of them just friends being friendly, some of them friends with benefits ready to follow me if I needed company. He felt inferior and discouraged from approaching me, always seeing me talking to or hugging someone else.

It was so easy to get him wrapped up in me. I'm not sure why I chose him, maybe it was the chair thing or maybe I just felt he would be an easy target. Maybe I wanted to figure that "sort of girlfriend" thing out. Mostly I just wanted to feel the high you get from turning somebody on. I used my most manipulative ways, being playful and smiling and throwing beer caps at him. When I leaned forward tugging my tank top down, urging him to throw the next cap in my cleavage, I knew I had him. I saw it in his eyes. I raised an eyebrow as I tucked the cap down in my bra, and he swallowed loudly when I leaned over and whispered, "I think I need to keep this". _I was such a whore._

He followed me like a puppy, and the reaction I got from him kissing in the hallway behind the bar made me feel like the queen of the world. He was putty in my hands and my self confidence went sky high. He walked me to the cab, and when he wanted to follow me home I laughed and said I wasn't the kind of girl who went home with a guy the first night. Yeah right. I told him he was allowed to call me when he no longer had "sort of" a girlfriend. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who left his girlfriend just because some random slut stuck her tongue down his throat. I guess I didn't think he'd call at all.

But he did.


	2. Bottle tops and sunny smiles

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you LouderThanSirens and JillM12, my betas on this chapter!** **You are the queens of commas.**

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_**Bottle tops and sunny smiles**_

**x.x.x**

EPOV

When we arrived at the party I heard a girl laughing. It wasn't girly, giggly laughter, it was hearty and genuine, but somehow muffled. I turned around, curious to see the girl, and I caught a glimpse of her thrown over some guys shoulder while he ran to the dance floor. She was shaking with laughter as he put her down, trying to catch her breath. She slapped him on his behind and then started pulling tables and chairs out on the floor; this was obviously where the dinner would be held. It made sense because the bar was so small they'd never fit the tables in there. She worked fast and efficiently, bringing plates, cutlery and glasses to the tables on the dance floor. I could tell she had done this many times and that she wasn't afraid of hard work. Her friends dragged their feet behind, seemingly avoiding the task. She probably noticed, but she didn't say anything.

I took my coat off and went to the bar. It was crowded; the air was humid and hot. I saw the girl in the corner of my eye. She seemed to know everybody in there; she waved to the girls, but hugged the guys. She always smiled, but she had different smiles for different people; some of the girls got a polite smile, and some got a happy, but slightly cautious one. I didn't think they noticed, all wrapped up in their own business as girls tend to be. The guys on the other hand, they got genuine smiles. Some of them were smiles that hinted a connection other than a friendly one, which hinted at a deeper connection. It was a knowing smile. Some guys got smiles that were appreciative, while some got smiles that were apologetic. Those guys always had a hint of sadness on their faces. I realized they were the ones she had turned down on some point.

The doors swung open and two guys entered. One of them scanned the bar while taking his jacket off and his mouth turned into a smile when he saw her. He quickly hid behind his friend, waiting for her to turn her back to them. Then he snuck up behind her and lightly grazed the back of her neck with his fingers. She froze, closed her eyes and then shivered slightly before she turned around. The smile on her face was astonishing. She had a specific smile just for this guy, and it was the smile of the sun. They hugged and whispered quiet words to each other while her face went through emotions; happy, sad, delighted, longing and sad again. She nodded at something he said, he seemed to encourage her as he held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. A wordless conversation took place before they suddenly went in different directions. I could tell they were special to each other. It annoyed me. I wanted that smile.

I realized as I watched her that she would never be interested in a guy like me. I had no chance. So I shook my head to get rid of the memory of her smile, and bought a beer. The dinner was about to begin, and everybody sat down at the U-shaped table she'd arranged earlier. I lost sight of her. Everybody was supposed to introduce themselves, and I made an awkward appearance, tripping my chair and mumbling like a total idiot. My ears went hot and red, and I felt her eyes on me, but I refused to look at her. The guy who got the smile of the sun sat next to her, his name was Jake and he said he was "single, looking for a good time." I snorted quietly. I tried not to listen as she introduced herself as "Bella Swan, not currently dating." I failed miserably: my still red hot ears were clinging to her every word. _At least they aren't dating_ , I thought.

As the night went by, I could see her interacting with a lot of young men in there. Some of them looked at her as if she was a trophy, prey, or just a pair of boobs. It was appalling and I was happy to see she seemed to turn all of them down. I noticed she used some of her guy friends as a shield, or escape. Whenever some douche bag got too intense, or didn't back off when she told him to, one of her friends joined her, slipping his arm around her waist in a possessive way until the douche disappeared. Then she would smile at her friend and kiss him gently on the cheek before moving on. I was relieved to see she had people looking out for her, but it still made me feel strange watching them with their arms around her. I shouldn't care, I didn't know her. But I wanted to. And I wanted that smile; the smile of the sun.

Later in the evening we sat down for a game of caps. It was new to me, but I had a good aim and learned fast. She sat in the circle next to me. Sometimes our eyes met and she smiled at me. It was a curious smile, like there was something she wanted to know. I smiled back at her, shaking my head at myself for even trying to get her attention. I tried to focus on the game, aiming at the glass of beer across the floor. Just when I was about to throw, I got hit in the head with a bottle top, and of course I missed it. My eyes darted around the room, trying to find out who was responsible for making me lose that shot. I glanced at her, wondering if she saw the whole thing. I felt embarrassed. When I saw her suppressed smile I realized it was her. She was the one who threw it. _Did she want me to notice her?_ She lifted her eyes to mine and I smiled crookedly before I threw it back at her. I hit her on the forehead and she burst out laughing before she threw it back at me. As I was considering my next move, she tugged her tank top slightly down and leaned forward. I saw the curves of her breasts and a hint of black lace. My mind went blank. She smiled at me with a raised eyebrow, and I knew that she was challenging me. I looked in her eyes while tossing the bottle top in her cleavage. She told me she'd keep it. When she grabbed my now loosened tie and dragged me to the bar, I could do nothing but follow. I didn't leave her side that night. When she pushed me against the wall and kissed me, slowly licking my lower lip, I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. There was nothing I wouldn't do for Bella Swan. She was everything.

That night I decided to put an end to my "almost relationship". It wasn't even about love. Me and Tanya had known each other since we were kids, and started dating when we were fifteen because it felt like the natural way to go. We moved in together a few years later. She was my first, and I was hers. When she decided she wanted a life on her own and moved out, our friends and families were more shocked than I was; I knew it was coming. We were apart for several months, barely speaking. Not that we were fighting, but it just didn't feel necessary. When the summer came we were going sailing with our friends. That trip had been planned for over a year, and since we didn't want to make things awkward for the rest of our friends we decided to get back together temporarily. We still liked each other and it seemed like the easiest way to get rid of the worries our friends had about the whole thing. Then we kind of forgot to say the words to end it, but that was about to change. Bella told me I could call her once I sorted that Tanya-situation out and I fully intended to do that. Maybe I could get that sunny smile, after all.

I accompanied her as she left to get a cab. I didn't want her to walk around all alone, it was late and the town was full of drunken assholes. I wanted to make sure she got home in one piece, and I asked if I could follow her home. She laughed, saying she wasn't that kind of girl. I didn't understand what she meant at first, but as she climbed in the cab I realized she thought I wanted to sleep with her. I frowned at the thought. I would never dream of asking a girl I just met such a thing. All I wanted was for her to be safe.

**x.x.x**

BPOV

I got in the cab, slightly smiling at the expression on his face when I said he couldn't follow me home. He told me the "sort of" girlfriend story earlier that evening, before I was kissing him in the hallway. That relationship was just for show, it meant nothing and they just hadn't gotten around putting an end to it. But still, I turned him down because of it. My smile turned into a frown when I realized how out of character I'd behaved. I never used to care about girlfriends, especially not the "sort of" ones, I took the boys home anyway. _Why did it matter to me now? What made him different? Or rather: what was it about him that made me act differently than I used to?_ I didn't get it.

I sighed and leaned back feeling the slight spin of alcohol in my head. I enjoyed it since I knew it would make me sleep tonight. I knew I had to talk to Jake about this guy. He was the one who knew how fucked up I was, and he never made me feel less about it because he was fucked up even more than I. With him, I allowed myself to express what I felt sometimes, but never wanted to acknowledge with my mind. And when I needed to suppress those thoughts he was the one giving me the pep talk, saying I was the best ever and that I shouldn't let other people hold me down. Jake was the one who told me I was worthy of love. He gave me what I needed at the time, whether it was sex, someone to dry my tears or just someone to hug me at night. When I had to take my cat to the vet to put him down, Jake was the one who followed me there and then stayed with me until the crying stopped. To everyone else Jake was just the Casanova, doing a new girl every weekend; to me he was the one I could always count on, and I knew he cared. He had a part of my heart, but I knew I had none of his because he didn't give any of it away.

But this Edward guy, there was something about him. He didn't regard me the same way I did. He made me feel different, like I was actually worth something. I wasn't used to it and I didn't understand it, but I wanted to do things right for once. I would not sleep with Edward. Not yet. I didn't think he'd call, anyway.

I wished he would, though.


	3. Dinners and Divorces

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you Sweetishbubble, Whitlocked and JillM12, my betas on this chapter!**

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**_Dinners and Divorces_**

Yes, Edward did call. He sorted the Tanya situation out and left a message on my cell phone, which I listened to with a big goofy grin on my face. My dad, Charlie, was sitting right beside me in the car; he was driving us over to his place for dinner. I told him about this guy I met, not forgetting the part about him supporting the same football team as my dad. Charlie smiled and shook his head, and I knew he was happy that I seemed to be moving on, forgetting about the last jerk I dated. Charlie did not like my last one, James, but he never said that to my face. When I finally left James, Charlie just told me that he was happy for me and that I deserved better. Even though I still was his baby girl, he trusted me and he let me make my own mistakes. When I needed him he was supportive, and when he knew I wasn't ready for his opinions he kept quiet. He always mended me when I broke, never judging me for the choices I made. He was the best dad a girl could ever want.

I didn't know much about Edward at that point, but I had a feeling he was nothing at all like James. As it turned out, I was right about that. I realized that I was not the same person I used to be when I was with Edward, and it felt nice. Before Edward, I was the girl with the one night stands and the fuck buddies, the girl who used sex to raise her low self esteem. I was the girl who was addicted to the high you get from sex, and craved the feeling of closeness and intimacy that followed even if it was false. I wasn't prepared to admit it, but I didn't feel worthy of love. That changed when I met Edward, because he made me feel worthy again.

I fell in love not only with Edward, but also with the new me, and I desperately wanted to keep both him and the new Bella. I still dealt with the aftermath of my relationship with James, and he was not the most reliable person. I never knew from one day to the next if James considered me his girlfriend, or if he had decided he didn't want me any more. He changed his mind every other day, telling me I was a useless whore on Monday, wanting me to give birth to his children on Tuesday, and cheating on me on Wednesday. It was psychological warfare and it slowly broke me down. I had a hard time believing Edward would actually stay with me. I was afraid he would realize I wasn't girlfriend material and leave, and I would go back to be the same person I was before I met him. I did not want that, and thank God it didn't happen.

**x.x.x**

We've been married for a few years now, have two wonderful kids, and the "happily ever after" we wanted should be right here. But, it feels like I've lost not only Edward and "new Bella," but also our "happily ever after." I don't know why or when it happened and I don't know how to start looking for them. Maybe I should just let them go.

I am making dinner when Edward walks through the door, as I always am. He is late, as usual, and I am not happy about that, as usual. Kate is in her room making Play-Doh cupcakes, "It's for dessert, Mommy," while Benjamin is in our bedroom, bouncing around in our bed. He is not supposed to do that because Edward hates it, but I just can't tell him no. He loves to jump on the bed and it makes him laugh like a maniac. I love to hear that so I let him because I want him to be happy. I used to jump on the bed when I was a kid; it was the funniest thing next to twirling round and round until your head started spinning. I guess Edward wasn't allowed to bounce on his parents' bed, and I know he never used to twirl around getting his head to spin.

When Edward realizes what Benjamin is doing he chases him off the bed, scolding him. Benjamin runs to me, hugging my legs while I stand by the stove. I hear Edward mutter in the hallway about me not taking care of the kids, allowing them to do whatever they want, having no rules and being a lazy ass mum.

_W_ _hat did he just say? Did he accuse me of being lazy, of not taking care of the kids? Is he out of his mind, does he think I have a fucking housekeeping nanny at the house who takes care of everything while I rest my lazy ass?_

I slowly turn to him, "Excuse me, did you just say something?" I watch him with my teeth clenched.

He huffs and shrugs his shoulders, still mumbling, "No, nothing. I said nothing." He doesn't look at me.

I feel the familiar burn in my forehead indicating I am going to have a complete fit of rage. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that I am overreacting, and that I was probably just waiting for him to do something to piss me off. But the more primal parts of my brain take charge of the reasonable ones and ruthlessly throw me into the argument.

_Oh really? We're gonna play this game now? This is so not the time for_ _this. I was pissed already and you just made it worse. Bring it on, asshole._

I narrow my eyes at him, "Right… Nothing? That's not what I heard. I heard you being an ass about me not taking care of the children properly."

He is waiting, saying nothing. He crossed a line, and he knows it. When I am angry my face gets blank, void of any emotions, and my voice gets very calm. He knows the signs, and they are all there.

I turn to the pots on the stove, pointing at them with the ladle. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm actually busy making dinner for the kids I don't take proper care of. Oh, and come to think of it, I'm actually making _you_ dinner as well."

I pause, stirring the sauce. He still says nothing, and I continue, "And before making dinner, I took care of some laundry, emptied the dish washer, picked up toys from the floor, and wiped breakfast crumbs off the table."

I put the pots on the table and walk up to him, close. I stare at him and finish, "So excuse me if I let my son jump on the bed, while I take care of _your_ laundry, _your_ dishes, _your_ bread crumbs, and make _your_ dinner. I don't feel like I am your _wife_ any more. It's like I'm your fucking _housekeeper_."

We eat in silence.

**x.x.x**

I decide to go to bed. I say nothing to him; I want to be alone. I brush my teeth, wash my face and I look at myself in the mirror. I feel old and I look tired. I go to bed, curling up under the comforter. This wasn't the life I wanted and I am pretty sure it's not what he wanted either. It wasn't supposed to be this way, and we need to change this because I can't live this life. I'd rather be alone with Kate and Benjamin, than having to take care of a grown man at the same time. I still feel angry after the fight we had, or rather the fight I had with him since he didn't even bother to answer.

_Why didn't he say something?_

Whatever. So what if I let Benji jump on the bed? I did it while making him fucking dinner! That ought to account for something. It's not like dinner gets done by itself, and certainly not by Edward. I should just do nothing and see how long it takes for him to realize that I won't be making dinner. But I can't do that. I have kids, I can't do that to them. They would starve.

I've actually tried that a few times, not doing anything at all and just wait for him to take charge of dinner and cleaning. Nothing happened of course, and finally I caved and made leftovers for dinner and brought the vacuum cleaner out myself. I don't know if he even noticed that dinner was later than usual, or that I didn't vacuum until days later.

I'm so sick of always being the one to run things here. If I don't make sure it gets done, nothing will happen. He helps, all right; if I ask him. But that's not the point. The point is that I'm the fucking CEO of this household, and I don't want to be. If I don't take charge of things, the house wouldn't be cleaned, there would be no dinner, and no clean clothes. Every decision is mine: what to eat, when to eat, when to clean, when to go shopping for groceries, what to buy, everything. All the time it's me thinking about what needs to be done, while he sits there playing games on the PC, totally oblivious to the rest of the family. It's like he's living in a hotel, and I'm room service. I don't want to be room service. I want to be his wife.

I stare out in the dark, pondering this wife thing. A queasy feeling comes creeping upon me.

_A wife kisses her husband when he gets home._ _I don't._

_She makes love to him._ _I don't do that, either._

_She doesn't panic_ _like I do when he caresses her at night, scared that he might want to have sex._

_She doesn't have to fight to be able to_ _breathe when her husband lies next to her. Who does that? Right, that's me. I do that._

_Wow. I suck at being a wife._

I feel bad, really bad. I want to vomit when I realize something is wrong, much more wrong than I thought. I don't feel like I'm me anymore, I'm never "just Bella." I'm actually "no Bella" and I realize that's where these feelings of losing the "new Bella" come from. Instead there are all these different women that I have to be: I am a hard working professional during day. Then I pick the kids up at kindergarten and turn into Mommy. When I get home it's time for the cook. Some days I am the housekeeper as well, cleaning and washing. And when I go to bed I am supposed to turn into wife or mistress, well, that's just one too many. Wife and mistress can go to hell because I just want to sleep. Sleep and weep, quietly so he doesn't hear. I am lonely, even if he is right beside me. I'm never "just Bella" any more, and I feel so guilty for not being the wife he wants and probably deserves. I hate myself.

I wanted this to be our house, our life, our "happily ever after," and now I am nothing but the housekeeper.

_Not that I_ _even act like a wife, anyway. I act like the housekeeper. Why would he treat me like a wife when I won't treat him like a husband?_

_I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even want me as his wife any_ _more. Maybe that serves me right._

The word I never wanted to think about is slowly entering my mind, floating to the surface.

Divorce.

I cry myself to sleep.


	4. Reminiscence and Rising Fear

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and imcarriej, my betas on this chapter. Jill, you are so helpful and encouraging! Please stick with me!**

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_**Reminiscence and Rising Fear**_

**x.x.x**

EPOV

We are having dinner in silence; Bella is still angry and I am still upset with myself. I shouldn't have said those things. I knew it the moment the words came out of my mouth, and to be honest, I didn't really mean the things I said either. Bella took care of everything at home and implying that she didn't look after the kids properly was quite cruel.

I cannot believe how stupid I am sometimes, and I don't know why I do these things since I clearly see how it affects her. I never thought I would be the person to be mean to her on purpose, but still I am. What really pisses me off is that I don't even apologize to her. I know I should, and I want to, but the words get stuck in my throat and it is so frustrating. None of the things I want to tell her seem to come out, and instead I say horrible things, yell at the kids, and lash out at random stuff like the computer not being fast enough or my wallet being in the wrong place. Nothing about that is even remotely Bella's fault, or the kids', and yet I take it out on them. My temper has gotten worse and I don't particularly like myself this way.

_At least I got a reaction out of her._

I frown at the thought. I would not be surprised if that is the reason I do these things all the time. I want her to notice me again. It's not the kind of attention I would prefer, but it snaps her out of that bubble she seems to walk around in nowadays.

Sometimes she just sits on the couch, staring into the air with absent eyes. Those warm, brown eyes used to dance and sparkle, displaying her every emotion giving her no chance of hiding anything. I could tell what she was feeling just by looking into them, and now it's as if she's not even in there.

I don't recognize the girl I married. She was the most alive, warm and vivacious girl I had ever met. There was something about her that was almost fervent, and I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I could watch her forever; her vivid gestures when she spoke, her smiles, the way she bit her lower lip when she was nervous, and how she twirled her brown hair with her fingers when she was in deep thought.

Now she keeps her hands folded when she speaks, and she is collected in a sort of strained way. She bites her lip constantly, she seems distant, and she answers in monosyllables when I speak to her. I don't recognize her, but to be fair I don't recognize myself either. I do and say things I never thought I would.

She never used to be so preoccupied. Something is clearly bothering her and I wish she would tell me what it is, but I realize I haven't exactly shown any interest in her feelings lately. I spend little time at home, and when I do I sit in front of the computer or watch TV.

**x.x.x**

I finish my meal and clear the table, putting the plates in the dish washer. She made dinner; at least I can take care of this part. She has already left the table, and is now giving Benji the "every night tooth brush fight," as Kate calls it. Benji is a lovely kid, but getting his teeth brushed is his least favourite thing to do and I'm not proud of myself for leaving that to Bella most of the time.

Actually I leave almost everything to Bella, which is absolutely not fair to her. When we moved in together we discussed this several times. She is quite the feminist and made it clear that she expected me to take equal responsibility for our home and future kids. Of course I agreed, because this was – and still is – my opinion as well. I see now that I don't live up to the promise I made back then.

_What if she doesn't want me anymore? What if that's_ _why she's so distant all the time?_

I close my eyes as the thought hits me like a wrecking ball. I steady myself against the sink and my hands are trembling. I wouldn't be surprised if that is the case, it's not like I've been the greatest husband lately. She is her own woman, perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and she certainly doesn't need a man to survive. She has survived without my help for quite some time now to be honest. All those things she said after my stupid muttering earlier, she was right about everything. _Everything_.

_She is leaving me._ _She is the love of my life and I screwed up. She is leaving me. Fuck._

I hear her rummaging about in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. I know she won't tell me good night or ask me to come to bed. My mind races as I'm meticulously overhauling our marriage the past year. All the signs are there, mocking me. Of course she is leaving, how could I not see that earlier? It all makes sense: the way she recoils from my touch, how she never says "I love you," and the fact that she gets almost paralysed when I try to hug her in bed.

She probably thinks I haven't noticed, but I know she cries almost every night. I hear her quiet sobs when I pass our room, and when I enter she holds her breath pretending to sleep. That doesn't fool me, but I have never once asked her why she is sad. I pretend not to hear her and go to sleep beside her every night. I think maybe I'm afraid of what she might answer if I do ask, and her constant rejection keeps me from giving her the comfort she probably needs.

Last but not least, the most obvious sign of them all: the total lack of sex. She used to be the queen of sex, the utter opposite to my last girlfriend. Tanya was all about lights out, in the bed, under the blanket, missionary style. Bella took what she wanted, when she wanted, how she wanted. She didn't care if it was dark or broad daylight, if we were on the bed, the kitchen table, against the wall, in the shower or even outdoors. She was under me, on top of me, her back to me; whatever she wanted she also did. She expressed her sexuality in a way I never could – and still can't – and I admired that.

I still want her. She is the most beautiful, sexy creature I have ever seen. I have dreams and needs I've never told her about, things I secretly hope would eventually happen. I want to experience these things with her, do certain things to her and show her my inner desires, but I never had the guts to tell her.

Those dreams will continue to be just dreams, because she is leaving me. I'm certain of it now.

_Fuck._


	5. Love and Laundry

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and Lezlee, my betas on this chapter. Jill, thank you for the banner!**

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_**Love and Laundry**_

I come home after picking up Kate and Benjamin at kindergarten and preschool. I had the shittiest day at work, and I was so stressed out I actually forgot where I parked the car this morning and ran around two different parking lots looking for it. I fell asleep last night with the word "divorce" echoing in my head, and it has been lingering in the back of my mind all day. I keep coming back to that thought over and over, and the initial feeling is relief: if I am on my own with the kids I will escape the guilt of not being a good enough wife. I won't have to take care of a grown man; he'll have to take care of himself.

But then again, that will leave to me alone to take care of the kids when they get sick. If I get sick, nobody will help me. I will have no one to help me with cleaning, laundry or dishes. That will be me shovelling snow, me mowing the lawn, me washing the car. All those things Edward does now; they will be done by me alone. That's some really heavy work. Maybe he does more domestic chores than I realize, he just does most of them outdoors. Even though I sometimes feel like I do all of the house work and cleaning, Edward's usual chores even that out, most of the time.

_What would he say if I told him I wanted a divor_ _ce? Would he be sad, angry, or would he be relieved that I brought it up? Does he want to get out of this dead marriage as well? He should._

I know Edward isn't happy either. I see it in his eyes every time I turn away from him, every time my body freezes and recoils from his touch. I see the sadness. He must hate this as much as I do. He is better off without me, for sure. There must be hundreds of women out there waiting for a guy like him; after all he is one of the good ones. He may be the best actually, if I look at him objectively. He is nice, loving and helpful, and he is handsome with his slim but well-toned body, sharp features, bronze tousled hair and intensely green eyes. He is actually quite the catch. All those fun, beautiful, sexy women out there would surely kiss him when he gets home, make love to him at night and be the woman he deserves.

I, on the other hand, don't feel fun, beautiful and sexy. I don't like my body any more, it's slowly decaying. My boobs used to be firm and perky, the perfect B cup. After breastfeeding two babies they feel more like empty pouches. My once firm ass is slowly getting flatter and my belly is going the opposite direction; it used to be flat and hard, and now it's a soft potbelly. When I lean forward the loose skin on my abdomen – the "pregnancy leftovers" as I like to call it – wrinkle in a not so sexy way. And my poor, poor vagina, which I once was told was the tightest pussy ever, is probably more like a bucket after giving birth twice. Even if I did have sex with Edward he surely wouldn't like it that much, I must have turned into a lousy lay. I am actually doing him a favour, turning him down in bed. Not having sex with him also means that I am not calling attention to the fact that I may not be as great in bed as I used to be. If you think about it I am doing myself a favour as well.

**x.x.x**

I sigh and watch my kids run to the bowl of fruit, sitting on the counter. Kate is being a good big sister, peeling a banana for Benjamin before grabbing one for her self. She's only five years old, but since Benji was born three years ago she's enjoyed taking care of him. Benjamin takes the banana with his chubby hand and settles himself on the floor. Kate takes her usual place in the corner of the couch and I turn the TV on.

As I go to the freezer to bring out a box of frozen Bolognese, I hear the "the Fairly Odd Parents" theme song from the TV. I put the Bolognese in the microwave to defrost and head for the laundry room. I have such a bad conscience for using the TV as a babysitter again. I feel like the worst mother ever. I should be with my kids, reading stories and kissing them. Instead I let "Cosmo and Wanda; Fairly Odd Parents" take care of the kids so I can do the laundry.

I look at the clean clothes that need to be folded and instead of taking care of that I decide to start by throwing more dirty clothes in the washing machine.

_The clean clothes are mostly Edwards anyway. He can fold them himself._ _How many t-shirts can one man have, seriously?_

When I am stuffing the washing machine with white sheets and underwear, Benjamin joins me, apparently thinking this laundry game seems fun.

"I can help you mommy. I'm a big boy!" he states proudly while blocking the washing machine with his small frame.

"Yes you are, honey, but I want to do this by myself, okay?" I lift him up and move him out of my way.

"No you don't. You want to go play with my cars." He looks sternly at me while pointing his finger towards his room.

"Really Benji, just let me finish this. I want to get it done." I'm starting to feel annoyed and struggle to keep it from showing.

Benji is set on doing the laundry for me. He pulls some of the whites out, putting in black and blue clothes instead, and I snap. I yell at him, telling him to get his ass out of my laundry room. His eyes fill with tears and he runs out, sobbing.

_Fuck. I really am the worst mother._ _The kids are probably better of with Cosmo and Wanda anyway._

I sit down on the pile of dirty laundry, leaning against the wall. Here I am, doing fucking laundry while my kids are crying. I'll probably end up folding the damned t-shirts too. I close my eyes and get lost in thoughts of what used to be, barely noticing Benjamin silently coming back to me, curling up in my lap while I bury my nose in his hair.

I remember I used to enjoy this once, doing things for Edward; and not only for him, as a matter of fact. When we started dating he had this room mate, Emmet. He was an unbelievably large and muscular guy with short brown hair, happy eyes and a burly laugh; the kind of guy that fried a family sized pack of minced meat for breakfast and then ate it all. He used to scoop me up and carry me around under his arm. I enjoyed doing small domestic things for Edward and Emmet; doing their laundry, folding their t-shirts, cooking and washing the dishes. Neither of them expected me to do this, and that was probably what made me feel so good about it. They were nice to me, and I wanted to give something back. Doing things for not only Edward, but for Emmet as well, was maybe my weird way of telling Edward how much I cared. I wanted him to love me so badly that I took care of his friend too. Folding t-shirts was me saying "I love you." Nowadays I don't want to fold his t-shirts, and I don't say "I love you."

I always sucked on that "I love you" part. I still suck at it. I know Edward craves it, that he needs to hear it. He tells me he loves me, but I can hardly say it back. I mumble something like "thanks honey" or "ditto" and then pretend to be busy with something else. I know I am a bitch, but these words scare me; both saying them and hearing them. The last person I said those words to before I met Edward was James; James, the ex boyfriend; James, the asshole; James, the Bella-breaker. I said these words to him and it came back biting me in the ass, hard. I told him I loved him, and he called me a whore. He told me he loved me, and then he cheated on me. I thought I deserved it, James told me so and I believed him.

_I didn't deserve it._

I think now that the only reason I stayed with him for so long, was the fact that I actually thought I deserved to be treated that way. He made me feel like nothing, and that's what I thought I was. I was nothing. He was the punishment I sentenced myself to for being the whore I felt I was deep down. I had been with so many boys. It was such a rush getting that kind of attention, but coming down from that feeling really sucked, and that's what made me go back out for more the next weekend even though I knew I shouldn't. My relationship with James was unhealthy in many ways, but it kept those urges down, and when I left James I went straight back to that life. Then I met Edward and everything changed.

I am not a whore to Edward, and I am not a whore to me anymore either. Edward is the one who made me love myself again, but I can feel that slipping away. I don't love myself anymore, and maybe that's why I feel the love for Edward fading away. If I don't even love myself, how can I love someone else? I can't believe how stupid I am, letting myself ruin this. I suddenly realize I want to love me, and I want to love Edward. I want to feel like I am worthy of love – his love – again, but I just don't know how to do it.

_He could find someone else. He could choose to leave me and find_ _someone fun, beautiful and sexy._

Until now I've seen myself as the one ending this relationship, but it might actually be him making that decision. My stomach turns and my eyes fill with tears when I imagine Edward leaving me for another woman. That's a reaction I am not expecting. The warning signals my body gives me when I am close to him; I always thought they were due to lack of love. Now as I think that he might want the divorce, that he might meet, love and caress another woman, I want to cry. The thought of him not wanting me is nerve-wrecking and I struggle to interpret this feeling.

_Maybe I a_ _ctually don't want a divorce. Maybe I still feel love for him, and my wrenched gut and aching heart is trying to tell me that. I don't know where this love is, but I'll start looking and I won't stop until I find it._

I'm still sitting on the pile of laundry, with Benji curled up in my lap. He's slowly twisting a strand of my hair with his small fingers, his head leaning against my chest. I close my eyes and sniff his head, stroking my nose against his soft hair. He smells like sunshine, and I let the scent fill my nostrils, my mind and my heart before I open my eyes and smile at him.

"Hey Benji, do you want me to read a book?"

He lifts his face to mine, pokes my nose with his index finger, and giggles. "Mommy, can you read Bambi with the pretty pictures?"

I poke his cheek and giggle back at him. "Of course I can, sweetie. That was my favourite when I was a kid, you know!"

We get out of the laundry room and I pick up my old Bambi book, the one with the Mirko Hanák illustrations. Kate joins us as we sit down on the couch, and I start to read. Halfway through the story Edward comes home, earlier than usual. He sits down next to us, listening quietly. I always cry when I read that story: Bambi does that to me every time and the beautiful pictures make it worse. I feel a tear slide down my cheek when the story ends. Edward raises his hand and wipes it away gently, and before I realize what I'm doing I lean my head against his hand.

_His hand is on my cheek. It's weird, but this almost feels nice._ _Maybe there is a glimmer of hope after all._


	6. Gardening and Growing Hope

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12, netracullen and krisbcullen, my betas on this chapter!**

_****_

* * *

_**Gardening and Growing Hope**_

The weeks are passing by slowly, each day the same as the next, but I can feel the approaching spring lightening my feelings. I enjoy the sound of the birds and the slowly warming air. The sun makes my gloomy winter white skin tingle, the frost has thawed and the earth has softened. The smell of damp soil is titillating my nostrils, making me muse on what new plants to buy, which sort of rose to add to the flower bed by the terrace, and if I should divide or not divide the Hosta plants this year. I'm looking forward to the summer. Edward and I are balancing on a thin line relationship-wise: we both know we have some issues that need to be addressed, but our last weeks have been calm and almost nice, and the fights have been rare. It's like we're living in a fragile truce and neither of us wants to be the one to break it. It has to happen eventually, and I know I need to be the one to bring it up. But I'm scared, so I say nothing, and neither does he. Our house is calm but quiet these days.

I use this quiet calm to think. I need to tell him how I feel about always being in charge of this household. I need to talk to him about how we can make things work at home, about things I need him to do for me. I'm guessing there are things he needs me to do for him, too. I think I already know what those things are, and I'm trying to figure out what to say to him about that. If I know my husband, and I think it's safe to say that I do, he'll have some things to say about me not showing him affection. His biggest issue isn't the lack of sexual affection, I'm quite sure of that. It's the small things that bother him the most, the absence of everyday gestures to show that I care about him. That, and the fact that I don't tell him I love him anymore.

I have almost figured out what to say to him, how to address this domestic issue of ours, and now I just need to find a good time to talk to him. But when the hell is that? Is there a good time for these kinds of discussions, or should I just take the bull by the horns and get it over with? Somewhere deep inside I'm afraid that this discussion will lead to a bigger one, dealing with other issues. I'm still not sure if he even wants this marriage to last. I realize I'm probably not the wife he would prefer, I realize that. I'm scared that, by bringing up the things I'm not happy with, I'll also end up hearing about all the things that displease him. Even though I already know how disappointing I must be as a wife, it would be unbearable to hear it from him.

I'm getting frustrated with my inability to make up my mind, and I decide to take it out on the garden, turning the dirt over with the pitchfork, digging in and breaking the clods with my bare hands. The tension, guilt, and anger I feel are being directed toward the ground, and with every shove I hide it deeper, feeling it simmer down and disappear. Few things are as satisfying as this: preparing the garden for the plants I intend to buy, plant, and nourish until they bloom. I bury my sadness in my garden and instead I prepare to fill it with happy colours and lovely scents. Kate and Benji are digging with their small spades in one of the flower beds, and I decide to leave that small corner for them to cultivate.

**x.x.x**

Edward has been out of the house the entire morning, helping his dad with some reconstruction on their summer house. He returns just as I hurt my back trying to move a fairly large rock that has come up to the surface because of the ground frost. I straighten my back and groan, my face twisted from pain.

"Jesus, Bella, what happened? What did you do?" He looks worried as he runs over to me, and urges me to sit down.

"It's nothing; I think I twisted my back when I tried to get that stupid stone out of the flower bed." I try to calm him down, because really, it's nothing to worry about. I hurt myself all the time, slamming my toes into doorsteps, walking into the corners of tables, hitting my head into cupboards in the kitchen. I don't even feel it anymore; I just add another black and blue mark to my body and move on. Every now and then I find bruises that I don't even recall getting. It's not a big deal to me.

"What the hell, why do you even do this stuff! Why don't you leave those things to me?" He raises his voice, and I feel his anger increase.

I hate this. I hate that he implies that I'm not capable of doing these things myself. He does that so often, trying to take things over. If I struggle to open a can, he takes it from me. If I'm reaching for something on the top shelf, he pushes me aside to take it down. If I try to pick up a fucking stone from the ground, he tells me to stop so he can do it for me. He makes me feel incompetent, like a damsel in distress, and I don't like to feel that way. I'm a strong, independent woman, and I don't need his help. Well, I'm not actually strong, I have to admit that. But I'm independent. And I don't need his help.

_This is so freaking weird. I'm upset because he wants_ _to help me, when I've just spent the last days – no wait, weeks or months is more accurate – thinking about how I'd like him to help me_ more _._

_Am I losing my mind?_ _I'm such a stupid bitch sometimes._

I sigh and let him take care of the stone.

"You know I like to do things by myself. It makes me feel good." I tell him. Maybe this is a time as good as anyone to have the talk.

"Yes, I know, I just wish you weren't so goddamned stubborn! I want to help you, and I don't like to see you getting hurt." He's still agitated, I can hear that. He loosens the stone with the pitchfork, and then lifts it up easily and tosses it aside. That is so unfair, and even though I'm oddly satisfied by watching him work, it pisses me off that I can't do that by myself.

"Well, I know you want to help, but I feel like you think I'm incompetent when you try to take things over like that. It feels demeaning."

He stares at me, running his now soiled hands through his ruffled hair. I notice some dirt getting stuck in it, and in my mind I stand up to brush it away. In reality, I stay seated instead, wringing my hands nervously. I feel stupid to bring this up. I wish I could have kept my mouth shut, because the cat's out of the bag now, and I'm sure that soon I'll have to hear about all the things I do to disappoint him.

"You feel what?" he asks, incredulously.

"Well, you heard me. And if you want to help me, there are other things I'd rather have you do." I stare down on the still brown winter grass at my feet. I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

_This is it, you have to talk about it now._

"Okay…" His voice wavers. I lift my eyes to see a strange expression pass over his face, and I wonder what that's all about.

I brace myself, and start talking.

"You know, I've been feeling kind of tired lately, about lots of things. I feel like I do almost everything around the house, and I don't want it to be that way."

He says nothing, so I continue.

"It's not like you're not helping me if I ask for it, but that's the problem. I _always_ have to ask. You never do the laundry unless I tell you to do it. You never clean the house; you just wait for me to do it. Even when I'm cleaning, you do nothing to help unless I ask. I can vacuum and wipe the floors right in front of you, and you never once ask me if you can help. You never make dinner, and if I didn't do all these things, or tell you to do them, they would never be done." I hold my breath, waiting for him to say something.

"I suppose you're right. I know I should do more to help you." he simply says.

_So that's what the look on his face was about: he really knew this already. So then why has_ _n't he…_

He interrupts my thoughts, continuing to speak.

"I just… I don't feel like doing laundry, cleaning, and stuff, because there are things I need from you that I don't feel like I'm getting. I know it's childish of me to punish you for it like that, but… " His brows furrows, while he thinks.

_Right… here it comes…_

_Wait, why is he still silent?_

I start talking again. "Edward, I know I'm not… affectionate enough. But I'm so tired all the time. It's like I have too many women that I'm supposed to be."

_Yes, this is it. I need him to understand_ _this._

He watches me silently, and I decide to continue.

"You know, when I'm at work, I'm this very professional person, making decisions all the time, running things, getting things done. When I pick the kids up I turn into mommy, giving them love and affection, keeping them from fighting, making decisions for them when they don't get along. When I'm at home I have all this laundry to take care of, a house to clean, dinner to make, and suddenly I'm the housekeeper. And when you get home you want me to be woman number four, the loving wife. And I don't have the energy left to be woman number four."

As I speak, I watch him shift his stance, growing more and more uncomfortable. He scratches the stubble on his cheek, pinches his nose and runs his hand through his hair again. I start to feel bad for him.

_This is hard for him to hear. I need to go easy on him._

"I hate to be in charge of everything at home. I'm so sick of making all the decisions. It would be so nice if I knew some things were done by you, without me even asking. So maybe if you did help me a bit more, I would have more energy left. And maybe then I could try to be more affectionate? Do you think that would work?" I ask him, because I'm not sure about this either. Maybe this is the reason I feel this strange aversion towards him touching me. I don't really know, but it's worth a try.

He sits down next to me, sighing. When he turns to me I see a spark of resolution in his green eyes.

"Let's do this. We'll divide some things up. One weekend I clean the house, while you take the kids shopping for groceries. And the next weekend you clean the house, while I go shopping. And the laundry… can we do that together? It's fucking boring."

I stare at him, not knowing what to say.

_Did he just make a decision? Did he just decide, and told me how we'll do this_ _, without asking my opinion and waiting for me to decide, like he always does?_

_God, that's such a relief! He took charge of things. He didn't leave this to me. He decided on his own. That is… so nice. And maybe a little… hot?_

"Uhm… okay. That sounds great. Would you do that for me?" I ask, not really believing what just happened.

"Of course. Because you're right, you know. You always are. But can you please keep making dinner? You know I suck at that. I don't want to serve you and the kids my crappy meals; they taste like shit. I'll do all the dishes if you just cook. Please don't make me cook."

I smile at him. Of course I can cook. I love that.

"You won't have to cook. We'll split things up, and I'll try to show more affection. Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal." He stands up in front of me, and leans towards me. I feel my body stiffen, and the anxiety grows, but I try not to move.

_I promised him I'd try. Be still, be still, be still…_

He kisses me gently on the cheek, smiles, and walks away. There is lightness to his steps, he looks content. I remain seated, my body still unwilling to move. Even though it feels good to finally have talked to him about this, I'm so angry with myself for reacting like this to his touch. I need to change; it's just a kiss, for crying out loud. That shouldn't be so hard to give him, considering he's offered to help out more at home.

I take deep breaths, trying to make my tense body relax. After a while I get up, ignore the pain in my back, and start working the dirt with the pitchfork, burying my feelings in the ground again.


	7. Photographs and Phobias

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my betas on this chapter!**

* * *

_**Photographs and Phobias**_

Sometimes when I pass through the hallway of our house I look at the pictures hanging there. They are three black and white photos from when we just started dating. In the pictures we are dancing and kissing. They were taken at the pub, and I remember the night. We were glued together like Siamese twins, always touching, always turned slightly against each other.

It was the same night Jake took Edward outside for a talk. Jake never told me what he said to him, but Edward did. He had told Edward that if he ever hurt me, Jake would hang him upside down in a tree, cut him open and make a tie out of his entrails. I laughed so hard I almost peed myself, since this was so far out of Jake's character that you'd need a spaceship to get there. But I got what he meant by it and so did Edward. Jake kept looking out for me even though he didn't have to.

I usually avoid looking at the pictures in the hallway. It feels so distant, like it was a hundred years ago. I usually try not to think about the love we had, because I'm afraid I'll fall apart. I remember the feeling, I know it used to be there and I'm trying to find it, but I can't and that scares me. All I find is an aching place next to the warm and vibrant love for Kate and Benji, my kids. _Sorry. Our kids._

The way I used to feel about him touching me is gone. I couldn't get enough of his hands, his touch and his kisses, but now I tense up when he gets near me, and he feels it. I can tell it makes him sad, but I don't know why I react that way and I don't know what to tell him. I thought it was about me not loving him, but I don't want it to be that way and I've realized I still have some kind of feelings for him. But where the hell are they?

**x.x.x**

I'm making dinner when I hear his car on the driveway. Kate runs to the door, screaming happily as he scoops her up and holds her upside down. He runs his hands through his hair and walks up to me. Standing behind me he watches the pots on the stove and asks me what's for dinner. He lays a tentative hand on my shoulder and I freeze, feeling my body reacting to his touch and turning rigid.

Why does this happen every time? I need to find a way to make this stop because I hate my body for doing this. I feel the tears burn behind my closed eyelids. I hear him sigh as he removes his hand, and I realize I had stopped breathing.

_I don't want this to happen._

I inhale shakily, brace myself, and turn around, greeting him with a small smile asking how his day has been. We make small talk, I tell him about my day but don't mention the fact that I sat in the car crying before I picked the kids up. He doesn't need to know that. He sets the table and we sit down, talking to Kate and Benji and giving each other a few tentative smiles. It is a relief. Dinners have been worse.

We have an understanding when it comes to dinner. I make it; he clears the table and takes care of the dishes. Kate and Benji want me to read a book, so we cuddle in the corner of the couch with "Bambi" while Edward starts loading the dish washer. I keep an eye on the kitchen, hearing him mutter and slam things around. Later I notice he left the pots on the table again. I silently take care of the rest before I put the kids to sleep. It annoys me that he can't take care of the dirty dishes without sounding angry, and that he always seems to forget about the pots. A few weeks ago I would have made a snide remark about that, but now I choose not to. It probably won't make things better anyway.

**x.x.x**

Later that night Edward decides to come to bed at the same time as me, which is odd because usually he stays up for a long time. We lie in bed, me on my side with my back to him, he on his back facing the ceiling. I lay still, wondering what he's up to.

_Maybe if I pretend to sleep…_

I feel his move even before he makes it, the slight shift in the tense air before he changes his position, sliding infinitesimally closer to me. He gently places his hand on the small of my back. It feels soft and warm against my skin. He doesn't move, just lets his hand rest there. My body immediately protests to his tender touch; my heart races, my muscles stiffen and my stomach turns into a painful knot. I try to will my body into submission, try to control it with my mind, but instead I feel my breath growing fast and shallow and my subconscious starts going through different ways of getting myself out of the situation. Suddenly I find myself standing by the bed. Edward stares at me, startled by my sudden movement and hurt from my rejection.

"I have to go to the bathroom, I'm sorry" I croak, before I hastily stumble out of the bedroom.

My legs start to crumple when I lock the bathroom door, and I lean against the wall. I feel the chilly tiles against my bare back, cooling my skin and slowly erasing the lingering feeling of his hand that burns deep in my flesh. I slide down to the floor, resting against the wall with my legs stretched out in front of me. My body feels weak from the tension. As the tiles soothe my back and the darkness of the room embraces me, I feel my breath slow down and my heart settle for a quieter pace.

I empty my mind and sit there with my eyes closed for a long time, thinking of nothing. After a while I begin to feel chilly, and my brain starts to function again.

_That didn't just happen. Not again._

It did happen, again. My husband touched me, and I ran. This was a genuine "fight or flight" mechanism, and the primal parts of my brain told my body to flee from the danger. My traitorous body reacted to my husband's soft, warm and loving touch, as if he was the world's most dangerous predator.

_Oh, this is fucked up. This is so fucked up, in more ways_ _than I can even count. What the hell is the matter with me?_

I stare out in the dark, shaking my head.

_Well, he's not a predator. He won't hurt me. All he wants is to love me. Where's the danger in that?_

I sigh and rise from the floor. Maybe it's time to deal with this. He has to wonder what my problem is. Well, so do I to be honest. I return to our bedroom and slide back under the sheets.

**x.x.x**

"Edward?" I whisper. "Are you asleep?"

I see his shape in the dark; he's lying on his side with his back to me. It feels almost like a rejection, seeing him like that.

_That's how I usually lie in bed._

"No," he says, "I'm still awake. Why?"

I'm quiet for a while, thinking. I don't really know what to say to him. I just know we have to talk about this now.

"I'm… I don't…" I close my eyes, cursing silently inside. "Shit, I don't know where to start!" I blurt out.

He's on his back now, staring on the ceiling, barely breathing and waiting for me to continue.

I will myself to speak again, letting my thoughts out without really thinking.

"Are you happy? Because I'm not happy and I don't really know why."

He thinks about his answer for a long time. I'm beginning to suspect he's sleeping, when he suddenly starts speaking quietly.

"No, I already guessed you aren't happy. I don't know what to do to make you happy and that's really frustrating."

I sigh, relieved that he hadn't fallen asleep, but noticing that he actually didn't answer my question. _Why didn't he answer? Is he trying to keep something from me?_ I hesitate before I continue.

"Yeah, I don't know that either. I don't know anything, anymore. I don't feel…" I stop talking, not sure what to say.

"What? What don't you feel?" His voice sounds strained, it trembles slightly and breaks at the last word.

I ponder his question.

_What do_ _n't I feel? Do I feel anything at all? It's all a blur._

I realize I probably feel a lot of things, but it's hard to distinguish them. I try to decipher them, out loud, so he can hear my thoughts.

"Well… I don't feel… No, that's not the right words, I do feel. I feel angry, and sad. I'm tired all the time, and I feel frustrated. I'm not happy with myself."

_Yeah. That's pretty much it. There are a lot o_ _f things about myself that make me unhappy._

"Okay… How do you feel about me?" His words slowly float across the bed, hover in the air and assault me with full power.

_Shit. Not that question. Please, I'll answer anything but that. Shit._

I'm quiet. I don't know what to say, because I don't know how to explain something I don't even know myself.

"Well, that sounds great. Thanks for that, I guess that silence tells me everything I need to know" he whispers.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

"So, I guess you want a divorce? I can call our lawyer in the morning." His voice is getting cold and acidic. I don't like his voice when he's like this. He's mad at me, and hurt, and it makes me want to cry.

_I need to fix this._

I don't want a divorce, I know that. I've known since that day in the laundry room, when the thought of him with someone else made me want to puke. I've known since he wiped my Bambi-induced tears away, and his touch actually felt safe and nice.

I turn slowly to him. I feel anger, hurt and despair rolling from him in thick waves.

"I don't want a divorce, Edward."

"Then what _do_ you want? Because I can clearly tell you don't want me anymore!" He raises his voice. "Don't you think I see what you're doing? Don't you think I feel how you react every time I'm close to you? You're disgusted by me!"

"No Edward! That's not true! I… Ah, shit! I know I act strange. My body keeps reacting in this weird way every time you touch me, and when I _think_ you're going to touch me, even if you actually don't do it, the same thing happens. Like before, when I fled to the bathroom. I don't even know why I do that! I can't figure it out!" I'm feeling desperate now, wanting to explain and not knowing how.

I'm rambling on, my words stumbling out erratic and confused. "It's like I get this panic attack. I can't fucking breathe, and I get so scared that you'll want to touch me and I'll react like that again, and I hate to reject you but I honestly think I'll have a breakdown if you do, and then I just…" My voice trails off.

_Panic attack. That's what this_ _sounds like. Jake suffered from anxiety hysteria when he was younger; this is exactly how he explained his attacks to me. How stupid am I? How did I not see this before?_

"You can't breathe?" Edward's question is tentative, his voice is suddenly concerned.

"No…I can't…" I eye him warily, not sure how he'll react to my sudden revelation.

"Oh. I'm so sorry about that, I had no idea… Is it like this every time I touch you? What can I do? What if I don't touch you at all? Would that help?" He sounds anxious.

_Wait – is he offering to stop touching me?_ _Would he do that for me if it made me feel better?_

_Do I want him to stop touching me? That's just… not right. This is a marriage. He's my husband._

"I _think_ I still want you to touch me, Edward, but I want my body to stop doing this to me. And it's _not_ every time you touch me. You remember when you got home early and I read Bambi a few weeks ago? You touched me then and it wasn't bad. It was nice to feel your hand against my cheek."

I can hear him smile. "Yeah, I remember that…"

A thought enters my head, and it makes me giggle. It's so silly, but I remember something about arachnophobia I saw on TV some time ago. My issues probably aren't even related to phobias, I can't imagine this problem being so severe. But there are some similarities, and the tension between us gives me an urge to make a joke about it.

"What? Why are you laughing?" Edward sounds amused and annoyed at the same time, it's like he's not knowing how to feel right now.

"I've got Edwardophobia!"

"Yeah, that's not funny at all." He says indignantly.

"Well, it's actually great. I think I need you to give me some therapy for this. Do you know how they treat phobias?" I smile.

"No, do you?"

"Actually I do. One successful treatment is exposure therapy." My smile gets wider. The tension in the room is almost gone now, and it feels nice.

"Oh… Exposure therapy, you say? Hmmm. That sounds nice…" His voice lightens, and then he gets concerned again. "Do you think we can do this on our own, though?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not? You should be able to touch me, and I should be able to enjoy it, right?"

_Maybe I'm on to something here!_ _Of course this isn't actual therapy, but if we work slowly things might change for the better._

I continue to speak, not wanting to let this idea go. "You know, I saw this documentary on TV a while ago. It was about a girl with arachnophobia who was exposed to spiders in different ways; she eventually got rid of it and was able to pet a big, fat, hairy, ugly bird spider!"

"What? Are you telling me I'm big, fat, hairy and ugly? Damn woman, that hurts!" He scoffs, feigning to be wounded.

I laugh at him, and he smiles his crooked grin. It's been a long time since we've laughed together. I watch him, remembering that grin from when we first met. He was adorable. Seeing him like this, he still is. I haven't noticed that in a while.

"So, no divorce then?" He asks.

_I want to be able to touch him and be touched by him, and_ _I'll send myself to love boot camp to do that. Fuck me, I'm changing this. Then maybe he'll be able to actually fuck me again._

_That would be nice._

"Nope, no divorce. I'll go with the exposure therapy." I declare.


	8. Shabby T-shirts and Silky Dresses

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my betas on this chapter!**

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_**Shabby T-shirts and Silky Dresses**_

**_**x.x.x**_**

EPOV

I'm standing in the kitchen, eyeing the family calendar Bella bought a few weeks ago after we decided I should help her more. She figured it would be easier for all of us to keep track of our family plans with it.

_It would be easier for me to keep track. She keeps it all in her head. I tend to forget all the time._

We also use the calendar to write down the "who's doing what" on weekends, when it comes to the chores at the house. This is my shopping weekend, which means I have to make some sort of grocery list. I suck at that, I can't even think of what to eat for a week, let alone figure out what we need to buy. I turn to Bella to ask her, like I always do.

"Hey Bella, I don't know what to plan for dinners this week. Do you have any ideas?"

She is sitting in her robe by the table, reading the morning paper. She slowly sips her tea, smirks and raises an eyebrow at me.

_Uh oh. Wrong thing to ask. I should have known._

"I have no idea, Edward. I think this is your grocery weekend, so you'll just have to figure it out." She turns to the newspaper again, and continues to read. I can see the corners of her mouth turn into a small smile.

_Fuck, I'm stupid sometimes. This is exactly what she means by_ _her "being in charge". I'm not supposed to ask her questions like this._

I open the freezer and rummage through the boxes, trying to get a grip on what's in there.

_She knows what's in the freezer. She knows without even having to look._

I stare at the frozen minced meat, the chicken breasts and the pork chops. Okay… what can we do with this? My mind is blank, and I'm starting to feel embarrassed.

_What kind of moron am I, if I can't even figure out what to eat?_

"Ahem" I hear her clear her throat. "Edward, I have a list of different meals that are easy to make with the stuff we usually have at home. Maybe you want to check it out?"

_Thank_ _god. She decided to help me._

She hands me the list and I sit down by the table, going through the different suggestions. This is brilliant, how come I've never noticed she has this list?

_Right. I never used to help her with this. I was usually watching TV while she made the grocery lists._

I feel stupid, but push it aside and go to work on my grocery mission. I need to recheck the freezer and the cupboards a few times, forgetting what was in them too quickly. After a while I have a list with meals, and I know what we need to buy at the store. It's oddly satisfying, knowing I can do this.

"Okay, I'm ready." I announce. "Do you want to check it before I leave?"

"Sure," she says, taking the list from my hands. She reads it quietly. "You need to add soap, shampoo and detergent; we're almost out of that. And toilet paper, because we'll be out of that too in a few days."

_Oh. I never even thought about those things. How does she know we're almost out of those?_

I'm actually slightly impressed. How much does she keep in that head of hers?

_I guess she has to_ _know, since I'm not that helpful in this household. And this is why I need to help her out more._

I dress the kids, put them in the car, and go to the store. When we get home Bella will probably be finished cleaning the house. Maybe we can have a coffee outside, on the terrace. The sun is shining, the air is getting warm, and the kids probably want to be outside in the afternoon.

_I'm helping her._ _This will be a good day._

**x.x.x**

BPOV

I listen to the car leaving the driveway. It is nice to be home alone, so quiet and peaceful. I pour another cup of tea, adding some honey and stirring slowly with the tea spoon. They'll be gone for a couple of hours, so I have plenty of time to clean the house. I open the door to the terrace and let the fresh air inside. It is still chilly, but the sun is shining and the air will soon be warm enough for me to sit outside in only a T-shirt. Maybe we'll even have a coffee outside later, Edward and I. It would be nice just to sit next to each other for a while.

I finish my tea and walk to the bedroom, changing from my robe to clothes more appropriate for cleaning. I go with a shabby, old T-shirt, a hoodie, and my baggy jeans. These are clothes for boring house work. I look at myself in the mirror, liking what I see. I look totally androgynous and asexual.

_Good._ _There is not a chance in hell he'll find me attractive in this._

I realize I cheat by doing this. I'm supposed to try being more affectionate towards Edward, but it is so hard. I've discovered I react differently depending on the way he looks at me when he touches me. A friendly pat on the shoulder is fine, as is a light, chaste touch on the cheek. A small peck is still too much, because I see the way he looks at me. There are hidden wants and desires even in that small gesture, and I can't handle that. I try to look as ordinary as possible, to keep him from watching me with lust in his eyes. I'll have to dress up later anyway, since I have to go to a party this evening, and I already worry about that. Those green, wanting eyes will watch me later anyway. No need to make them do it earlier than that.

I pick up the toys and clothes that are thrown at the floor, bring out the vacuum cleaner, and go to work. I don't mind doing this, really. I like that I see a quick result, my efforts are instantly paying off and the change is visible to the eye. There are other changes I need to make, inside of myself. They are a lot harder, and none of them are visible in that obvious way.

_I like easy and obvious._ _Hard and invisible changes suck._

I get interrupted by the phone, and as I answer I'm hoping it's not Edward calling to ask which kind of milk to buy or what soap to choose. I really hope he can make those decisions on his own.

"Hey Bella!" I hear my mom's voice, and I smile.

"Hi mom! What's up?" She's in the car, and I hear my dad mumbling in the background.

"Well, Charlie wants to watch the game tonight with Edward, so we figured you could bring the kids and come as well!" My mom sounds excited at the prospect of spending some time with her grandchildren.

"I guess Edward can come, and the kids, but I'm going out tonight." I explain to her.

"Nice, have fun! Charlie's planning a small barbeque and you know how these guys love that."

"Yeah, I'll tell him that. Bye mom!" I hear dad shout his goodbyes from a far, and I hang up.

_Sheesh, my parents spend_ _more time with Edward than they do with me._

I know I should be happy that my parents get along so well with my husband, and in a way I am. But there are so many things that I used to do with them, that Edward now does instead. We played golf together, but since the kids were born it's mostly he who plays with them. I stay at home with the kids. I used to go with my parents to watch the local hockey team play. Edward does that now, and I stay at home with the kids. Neither golf nor hockey is that important to me, Edward enjoys it much more than I do. But spending time with my parents is important, and I kind of feel as if I've lost them to Edward. That makes me sad. I sigh, and finish my cleaning.

_This is why divorce is not a good idea. My parents would be devastated. They'd probably keep hanging out with him_ _instead of me, and I'd be even lonelier._

Edward and the kids come home just when the coffee is ready, and I tell him about my parents' invitation. We put the groceries where they belong and go sit outside, drinking coffee and eating a small piece of dark chocolate. The kids play in the back yard, kicking a ball. Benji falls on his butt every time his feet miss the ball, and we laugh at him. The air is warm, but I keep my hoodie on because it feels safe. Edward takes my hand, which is okay, nice even. He's watching the kids, so if there is a hint of desire in his eyes I don't see it. But I'm guessing there isn't, considering my choice of clothes.

**x.x.x**

The sun is slowly passing over the sky, and it's time for me to hit the shower and get ready for the party. Edward cleans up the kids as I blow-dry my hair and put some make up on.

"Mommy, can I have some lip gloss?" Kate is standing next to me in the bathroom, looking at me with begging eyes.

"No, not now honey. I'm in a hurry; I have a bus to catch." I go over my face with a light touch of powder and add some mascara to my lashes.

_This will have to do. It's no big deal anyway, just the annual company party. It's not like my colleagues will notice, anyway._

I look at myself in the mirror, stroking my hands along my sides, smoothing my dress. I've chosen a purple, silky dress with small ivory coloured flowers. If the pattern were larger it would look like grandma's old curtains, but this way it just adds a lighter shade to the dress. The silky fabric clings to my body, showing off my curves and ending a few inches above my knees. Not that I have much curves nowadays, but the bra at least gives an illusion of it. My slim legs are covered with black satin stockings, and on my feet I have my black strap heels. I feel almost good about myself.

I walk into the bedroom, looking for my black purse and a jacket. Edward suddenly appears in the door, watching me as I rummage through my closet.

"Why don't you take the ivory jacket? It'll go nicely with the flowers on the dress." He says quietly.

"Right… I'll go with that. I don't have the time to look for something else anyway." I quickly brush past him, looking for my keys, cell and wallet.

"Don't wait up for me; I don't know how late I'll be. And I really have to go now, or I'll miss the bus." I tell him hurriedly.

"Bella, relax. I can give you a ride if you want, you don't have to take the bus. Since we're going to your parents it won't be much of a detour to drop you off."

I ponder his offer for a few seconds. That's actually nice of him, I hate running to the bus in high heels. Not that I do that very often, anyway. I don't even remember going out since the kids were born. The company I work for always throws a party this time of year, but I never attended it before tonight. I am excited and scared, because I've forgotten how to socialize with people I don't already know. I used to be an expert in talking casually to strangers and flirting with men. I don't know how to do that now. But then again, who would be interested in talking to me anyway, much less flirting?

I decide to accept his offer, and turn to Edward. He is watching me with a strange look on his face. His eyes rise to mine and I see the desire that burns in them.

_Oh no, I can't take this now. Please, don't look at me that way._

I feel uncomfortable, and put my arms around my body as to cover myself. His eyes roam my small frame, making me feel naked. I can see he's appreciative, I know he wants me, and I know I won't be able to give myself to him like that. I've given him my promise that I would try, but I can't, and the guilt consumes me. I don't know how to deal with these feelings, so I chose anger instead. I always do, and I hate myself for it.

"What? Quit staring at me!" I sneer at him.

_I h_ _ate myself._

His eyes quickly fall to the ground and he mumbles his apologies. As I walk to the kitchen "for a glass of water" which is really only a way to get away from him, I hear him add, quietly:

"I think you're beautiful. Is that not allowed anymore?"

I pretend not to hear that last comment, drink my water and get in the car. As he puts the kids in their seats I lean forward, resting my head against the dashboard.

_This is not a great beginning to a night out._

The fifteen minute ride into town is quiet. He drops me off, asking me to be careful. I shrug at him, not knowing how to answer his plea, and kiss the kids goodbye. I don't turn around as I walk towards the bar.

**x.x.x**

The place is crowded with people. Some of them I know well, some I'm acquainted with, but most of them I've never met before in my life. I know we work for the same company, but to be honest that doesn't make me feel more comfortable. I never used to be like this, the bars were like my backyard when I was younger. Now I just feel out of place.

I walk up to the bar, deciding that a drink might cure my insecurities. As I stand there, waiting for the bartender to acknowledge me, I suddenly feel someone standing close behind me. I feel fingers stroking my neck gently, moving slowly up to the nape, curling into my hair. I close my eyes at the sensation, and smile.

I know this touch. It is embedded in my skin, my nerves and the marrow of my bone. Only one person has ever touched me like this.

I let the fingers explore my neck, leaning my head forward to give him better access. The neck is my most sensitive area, this was common knowledge once. Many men have tried, including Edward, but only this man can touch me there and make me feel this way. My constantly working brain is shutting down, section by section. The sensations in my body are being redirected to my neck, leaving the rest of my skin numb and oblivious to any other touches. My legs are starting to feel weak, like my bones are turning into jelly.

_Jak_ _e. Oh god, how I've missed him._

Slowly I turn around, facing the person standing so close he's almost pressed into me. I let my eyes fall on his dark hair, his broad shoulders, and his smooth skin that reminds me of milk chocolate. I lean against him, saying nothing, letting his scent filling my nostrils and feeling his strong arms embrace me. I feel safe, and my eyes fill with tears. I'm sad and delighted at the same time.

"Well hello there, gorgeous. Do you come here often?" He teases me, smiling. I look at him, not able to speak. My heart aches and I've missed him so much. I need him, my Jake, my confidante, my soul mate.

"Hey Bells, are you alright?" I hear the concern in his voice. I shake my head, smile at him, and answer the only way I can.

"I am now, darling."

I throw my arms around him, feeling his hands stroking my back as he buries his nose into my hair. I haven't seen him in so many years, but my body still knows him so well. I can feel it relax instantly, wherever he puts his hands there is a peace I've not felt for a long time.

"I've missed you so much!" I sigh into his chest.


	9. Knights and Shining Armours

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my betas on this chapter!**

****

* * *

**Knights and Shining Armours**

**x.x.x**

JPOV

It is her. Bella is standing here, in this bar, at this company-held party. I had no idea we worked for the same firm and yet here she is, in my arms again. She fits right in, as she always did.

_My god, how long has it been?_

It must be almost ten years ago since we first met. I remember that day like it was merely a week ago. I look down at her, stroking my nose against the top of her head, smelling the sweet scent of her shampoo and the softness of her brown hair. She presses her face into my chest and sighs, telling me how much she has missed me.

"I've missed you too, sweetie." I whisper to her, stroking her back with my hands, remembering the curve of her back and the soft feel of her waist. It is exactly like it used to be. It feels as if I am travelling back in time, to younger and more carefree days.

She used to be such a witty and entertaining girl, she could make smart, sarcastic and funny remarks about everything. She had the sharpest tongue; it was hard to win an argument with her. I know that a lot of it was for show; she had some dark sides and issues, as did I, and maybe that's what drew us to each other. She never told anybody but me about this and she always had the carefree face on in public. She doesn't look carefree now, something has changed. She is wringing her hands constantly, she looks strained and unhappy. I frown, realizing that her answer to my question a few moments ago implied that she isn't doing okay. I quickly scan the last years in my mind, recalling what I know about her life as it is now.

_Married Cullen, who seemed to be a good guy._

_Was in love with him, no doubt about that._

_Had kids, I think… yes, a girl._

_I_ _believe I heard something about a boy too, later._

Her life seems to be settled, but looking at her now I see that something is different. I need to find out what it is, because even if she's married to Edward, and I'm married to Leah, I still care for her deeply. We had a connection that nobody could ever understand, and holding her now I know that it is still there. I'm hers and she's mine.

I can never talk to Leah about this, about me and Bella. She is insanely jealous, and rightly so. I had quite the reputation when we met, and staying faithful to one woman has been the hardest challenge in my life so far. Having a healthy relationship and never cheating on my wife isn't only a challenge, it is also my dream. It always has been, ever since I was a young kid and realized that my father was unfaithful to my mother. I truly believed I was damaged, being my father's son, and that I would never be able to stay with one woman. I admire Leah for marrying me, and even though her jealousy is hard to deal with, I love her and I want to give her everything. But I can never tell her about Bella.

I make eye contact with the bartender, ordering us two beers because that's what we used to drink. I smile at her while we wait and she puts her small hand in mine. Her entire demeanour has suddenly changed, and I now see more of the girl I used to know. When our drinks have been served I drag her to the balcony outside, away from the loud music in the crowded bar. She giggles as I place her in front of me, standing behind her with my chest against her back. We silently look at the view, the people walking around, the docks far away, and the boats with their lanterns casting a shimmering light on the water. I put my arms around her and lean my chin against her head, making myself into a shell to protect her entire body.

"Bella, what's the problem?" I ask her softly. I take her hands, exploring her fingers and stroking her palms with my thumbs. That used to soothe her, and it still does.

"Well…" she hesitates for a few seconds before she continues.

"Edward and I, we're not doing so great anymore."

I hug her tightly.

"What, has he been bad to you? Because if he has, I made a promise a long time ago that involved his entrails and a tie." I make it sound like a joke, but I am serious. Not about the entrails part, of course, I'm a peaceful man after all. But I swear to whatever god there is, if he has hurt her, I will kick his ass in some way.

"No, Jake. He would never be bad. I, on the other hand…" Her voice trails off.

"You've been cheating on him, Bella?" I ask her, scolding.

"Jeez Jake, of course not!" She laughs bitterly. "Cheating would include sex, and that's not really my thing anymore." She shakes her head slightly.

_Wow. Never thought Bella would be the one having issues with sex._

I hear her cry, soft and quiet. I turn her around so she is facing me, and her face is so sad and pained.

"Jake, I'm such a bad wife to him." She whispers between her sobs. I want to stop her tears; I want her to feel happy again. As I desperately think of something to say to her, an image emerges from my memories. It is an image of Bella, the very first time I laid eyes on her.

Well, to be honest, I heard her before I saw her.

We were throwing a party on campus, and everybody who wanted to be someone always came to our parties. We always had a lot of hang-around girls, kind of like groupies, which was sort of weird since we were nothing like celebrities. Usually any of us could have any of them, and whenever we showed them some sort of interest they were giggling like little girls.

Mike, the large blond jock in our group, had spotted something he liked. He was shouting and whistling, using terribly lame pickup lines, telling the girl how much he liked her looks. The girls were squealing at his sudden interest in one of them, and then I suddenly heard a loud voice shouting back at Mike. "Oh yeah?" she said, "Look real hard honey, because that's all you'll ever do!" Mike's jaw dropped and the tips of his ears turned a bright shade of red. I snickered and turned to see this girl, because no one had ever turned Mike down, and certainly not in public.

There she was. When my eyes met Bella's it was like the world around us ceased to exist. Lights, sounds and people; everything turned into a foggy mist surrounding me and her. I knew right then that this girl was special. I had no place for anybody in my heart because I was the constant Casanova, doing every woman that came my way but never letting them in. But when I looked at Bella I realized that she was already there. She already had a place in my heart.

I shake my head as I return to present time, wiping her tears away.

"Hey Bells, do you remember when we first met? I watch her eyes lighten and feel relieved that I managed to cheer her up. Keeping her safe and happy used to be one of my primary needs. It even came above having sex with gorgeous girls. I can't even remember how many easy lays I turned down because of my need for Bella. And with her, it wasn't even about the sex. Well, it kind of was. But the sex was secondary.

**x.x.x**

BPOV

"Jake, how could I forget that?"

I can't help but smile at him. Of course I remember when we met. His friend, Mike, who apparently thought of himself as God's gift to women, actually believed I'd be smitten with his douche bag whistles and corny compliments. As if. I had way higher standards than that, and I made it quite clear to him and anybody else who cared to listen. Besides, I already had a boyfriend.

Then I saw Jake and I lost touch with reality. Something about him ignited a spark in me, which quickly grew into a vibrant flame. He was sexy as hell, of course, which created a bit of a problem for me. The problem had a name, Eric, and he was not only my boyfriend but also the sweetest guy ever. We'd been dating since we were in high school, and being with him was more about feeling familiar and safe than actual love. Jake and I created our own little universe that night, a universe that had no place for my boyfriend. When I got home in the morning I called Eric, and had the not so pleasing experience of telling a perfectly good man that I'd met someone else.

The guilt I felt for this would haunt me forever, but I also knew that there was nothing else I could do. Staying away from Jake was not an option. We were imprinted in each others minds from the moment we met, and the feelings we shared were hard to explain to others. Many of our friends saw only the cliché of a woman loving a man, who is using her for convenient sex when he feels like it. What they failed to realize was the complexity of our feelings. Yes, we shared a sexual relationship, and were never exclusive because of Jake's womanizing habits and inability to commit. The sexual relationship wasn't the primary part of who we were to each other, though. We shared a platonic love and a friendship that extended beyond the sex, and that stayed with us even after we decided to quit sleeping together. When I felt like I was falling apart, Jake was the shield that embraced me and kept me from shattering. He was one of my lovers, and I had a few during that time, but mostly he was my best friend.

I know that my encounter with Jake wasn't all that good for me. It was cheating on Eric that set me on the downward spiral that ended with me thinking of myself as a whore. That would never have happened if I hadn't met Jake, but not once have I ever wished him out of my life. The only thing I've wished for is that I had the brains to end things with Eric earlier.

Now, when I stand at the balcony thinking about that day, I still feel a knot of guilt in my stomach for cheating on Eric. I'm not proud of myself for doing that, and even though I later punished myself enough by being with that asshole James for so long, it's still eating me inside. The most important thing I learned from it is that I'll never do it again.

**x.x.x**

"We were quite the team, weren't we?" Jake is smiling, remembering the past we share with each other. Then his face turns serious, and I know what he's going to ask, because that's how we are. Words aren't always necessary between us.

"I don't know what's wrong, Jake. Or, I do know, but I don't know how to fix this." Below the balcony of the bar there is a small park with bushes, flowers and a few small trees. I take his hand and we make our way downstairs and out the door. Jake sits down on the grass, leaning against a tree, and I settle myself between his legs, my back against his chest. We used to sit like this at night at campus, in the park outside the dorms. We spent night after night this way, talking and cuddling.

"So, I take it there is trouble in paradise." Jake states. "Tell me in what way, and it'll feel better, I promise."

"Okay… I don't really know where to start. I don't recognize myself anymore. We've had some trouble; I've felt like I'm doing everything at home, and I've been really tired and angry. Edward has been angry as well, mostly I guess because I'm not that affectionate towards him anymore. I don't want him to look at me or touch me, it freaks me out and I get all tense and anxious. That makes him sad of course, and I feel guilty for being a crappy wife." I stop to breathe and think of how to continue.

"Have you talked to him about helping you at home?" Jake asks me. He's gently massaging my shoulders and it relaxes me.

"Yes I have, and he's doing much more now than before. He's doing great; actually, he's being very helpful and he's really trying hard. But my issues with touching are still there," I say with a sigh.

"Still there in what way? You seem to be okay with me touching you, so touching isn't the problem." He squeezes my upper arms.

"Yes, but it's different with you, Jake! When you touch me, you have no hidden agenda, there are no wants and desires in your touches. I don't feel obligated to touch you back, or to like your touches, or to sleep with you. With you, it's just a touch with no strings attached, and I feel no pressure. It's a safe touch." I lean my head backwards and tilt it so I can look at him.

"Oh. So it's not the actual touch that bothers you, it's the things you imagine he wants with the touches. You imagine he wants to have sex. Am I right?" He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at me.

Jake always has a way of making me understand myself. He takes what I try to say, adds what he senses that I think and feel but don't articulate that well, and moulds it together so it makes sense to me.

"Yeah, I guess so… It annoys me, though. He's my husband; I should want to have sex with him. That's how it's supposed to be."

Jake nods slowly. "When was the last time you wanted to have sex with him?"

"That's a long time ago. I'm not sure I remember. It probably was before Kate was born." I close my eyes, trying to recall.

"So, you wanted him, and then Kate was born. Is that when your issues with touching began? When she was born?" He keeps throwing me questions, helping me to sort things out.

"I think so. Maybe some time after… I was so frustrated all the time, because Kate was glued to my body day and night. I was never alone; I had her clinging to me constantly. She needed me, and that was fine, but when Edward came home and wanted to hug me or touch me it got too much. I was like, 'get your hands off me, I've been touched all day and my nerves need some fucking rest'. All I wanted was for him to take Kate so I could take a shower, pee on my own, or just sit down on the couch without someone being so goddamned close. That of course also meant that sex was out of the question. If I could, I would have requested separate bedrooms."

"So, no sex then. For how long?"

"Well, since then I guess."

He snickers at me, and I know he's about to make fun of me. He always snickers like that when he's planning a joke on my behalf, and I love it.

"And your little boy, how did you manage to make him? He's like the new Jesus, apparently. The Immaculate Conception, Bella style."

I elbow him in the side, hitting his ribs quite hard. "You're such a dork… Of course we had sex a few times. The first time we had sex after Kate was born was like 9 months after the birth. I didn't breastfeed anymore, so my boobs could actually be touched without turning into milk fountains. But the sex, it hurt so badly. I wasn't prepared for that, I thought I would be all healed and good to go. I was wrong; apparently things can be fragile for quite some time because of the hormonal changes. That wasn't an entirely pleasurable experience."

"I can see that… Do you have sex at all now?"

"No, we don't. When we made Benjamin, it was an attempt to make things better between us. I was angry all the time, and I took it out on Edward, pushing him away. He was angry all the time, and he took it out on Kate, yelling at her for nothing. That of course made me even angrier with him, and it went on like that. After Benji was born, it got a little better. Then we tried to have sex again, and let's just say it didn't go well."

"How do you feel now about it?"

I shake my head and sigh. "I don't allow him to get that close to me. When Edward touches me, my body reacts in the strangest way. I get anxious, my body goes rigid, and I have trouble breathing. My heart races and my muscles coil up, as if my body is preparing to flee from him. Well, that has actually happened several times. The fleeing, that is. So that's how I feel about sex. I want to flee from it."

"That sounds like you're having an anxiety attack, Bella. You're panicking! Girl, you have some serious issues here." He fingers my neck, and I instantly feel the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"I know. We joked about it, though, about me having Edwardophobia and needing exposure therapy… That's a step in the right direction, I think, being able to joke about it."

"Well… Do you still love him? Do you remember how you felt about him?" He is fingering a strand of my hair now, gently pulling it.

"I do. I didn't think so before, I thought this aversion to his touches was about me not loving him. But I do love him, I've just forgotten where I put those feelings and I need to find them. I know how it felt, the love for him: it was passion and safety at the same time. The safety is still there, but the passion part scares me now and it makes me sad. I used to be all about passion, as you might remember, and it feels like I've lost a huge part of myself because of that."

"Bells, passion always fades. When it does it is replaced with other feelings, and they are as important as passion. You can't have passion all the time, it'll consume you. Instead of passion you get friendship and fondness. It's like a fire: at first there are these huge flames, but when the fire slows down the flames disappear, and instead you have ember, a persisting glow. Sometimes the fire ignites again, but most of the time it just glows. Just take small steps, Bella. Try to push your limits, but don't overdo it. If it's hard for you when he touches you, maybe it's easier if you touch him? Then you'll be in charge, so to speak."

I laugh at him. Who knew he would be the relationship expert? "Jake, if I'd told you ten years ago that you'd be saying this you would have died laughing. You are right, though."

"Yeah, I've learned some stuff lately. Leah teaches me. My kids do, too." He smiles at me, and I turn to face him.

"She is a wise woman. Nobody ever believed it back in the day, but I knew you always dreamt of having a family, and I'm so happy it came true for you. Keep her, Jake."

I stand up and brush some grass off my dress. Talking to Jake has helped me to straighten things out for myself, and putting it into words makes it less frightening. He knows me, inside out. This is why I need him, and also why I miss him.

"I'm ready to leave. As always, you are my knight in shining armour. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to a cab?"

He gets up, shakes his head and wiggles his finger at me.

"Oh no, Bella. I'm no knight. That would make you the damsel in distress and I know how you hate that. _You_ , Bella, are the knight. _I_ am simply your shining armour.

He pulls me in a tight embrace and lifts me off the ground.

"And this shining armour would gladly get you your ride home."


	10. Small Steps and Gentle Touches

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my betas on this chapter! I apprechiate you so much. Thanks to Lulu M for advice on commas.**

* * *

_**Small Steps and Gentle Touches**_

I get home from the party, quickly wash my face, kiss my sleeping kids, undress and fall into the bed. Edward is sound asleep, snoring lightly. I nudge him to make him stop. That sound can keep me awake for hours. He shifts his position, and the snoring stops. I snuggle under the duvet, curling up into fetal position. I think about Jake; it comforts me, and I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The following week is uneventful, both at work and at home. I receive an e-mail from Jake, telling me he is thinking of me and wishing me good luck with my issues. He offers to give me a few names if I ever decide to talk to a professional therapist. I reply, thanking him for being such a good friend and adding that I have to think about the therapist part. I like to figure things out on my own, and this is no exception.

When Friday arrives, Edward and I make a nice dinner, drink a glass of wine and take the kids for a walk afterwards. The sun hasn't set yet, and the air is still warm. The kids are running ahead, picking flowers, weird looking sticks and pretty stones, then running back and enthusiastically showing them to us. We laugh at the kids, talk about our week, and I tell him I met Jake at the party. Not once has Edward been jealous because of Jake, which is kind of astonishing when I think of it. I ask him about that, and he explains, telling me it is no big deal at all. Edward has never felt threatened by the relationship between Jake and I. He knows how important Jake has been to me, and hearing I had the opportunity to spend an entire night talking to Jake, makes him happy for me. I can't help but wonder if I would show Edward the same courtesy if he had a lady friend of importance. I'm not sure.

It's time for the kids to go to bed when we get back home; they are tired from the walk. Edward takes care of Benjamin, brushing his teeth and putting him to bed while I read a book to Kate. It's nice to put only one of the kids to bed, both Kate and I are calmer and happier, and saying good night is cosy and sweet. Putting them both to bed always makes me frustrated, because the tooth brush fight with Benji isn't a nice experience. I'm grateful that Edward did that tonight, and I decide it's my turn to put Benji to bed tomorrow.

When the kids are asleep, we spend some time watching TV together, sitting on different ends of the couch. We have the fortune of catching a show with Jeff Dunham and "Achmed, the Dead Terrorist" which is hilarious. Afterwards we watch it again on YouTube, and it keeps us laughing for quite some time.

**x.x.x**

It has been a good night, the best in a long time. The wine, the walk and the laughter is taking its toll, and I start to feel tired. I tell Edward good night, and go to bed. While I lie there in the darkness, I begin to feel a little lonely. Surprisingly enough, I actually want Edward's company in bed. This hasn't happened in a long time, and it makes me happy and nervous at the same time. Walking out there and asking him to join me should be easy, yet I stay in bed, my mind going back and forth. I want his company, but I'm afraid he'll misread my invitation and want sex, and that will lead to me turning him down again.

I sit up in bed, turn on the small lamp in the window, and put my feet on the floor.

_I have to do this_.

I rise and walk to the bedroom door. Before I reach the handle, I freeze and slowly turn around and head back to my bed.

_I can't._

I stand by the bed, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. My breathing has increased, and my heart is racing. This shouldn't be hard at all, I know that. I scold myself for being such a pansy. I have to try again.

I walk to the door again, and I'm able to open it this time. I peek out, watching Edward sitting by his computer. All it takes now is a few words, and the first part is done. As I open my mouth, nothing comes out. It's like I've lost my ability to speak. When I realize Edward has heard me open the door and is watching me, I hurry across the hallway to the bathroom, pretending I have to pee. I sit down on the toilet, waiting a minute or two before I rustle some paper, toss it in the bowl and flush it down.

_This is so stupid._

I walk back to the bedroom, sneaking a peek at Edward. He is hunched over the computer keyboard, playing one of his strategic PC games. I think it is called "Colonization." Apparently he likes it, since he plays it several times a week.

I need a pep talk to be able to do this. It is late, and I have no one to call. The only person who knows about this is Jake, but I can't call him at this hour. Leah would probably kill him if I called him at all, whatever the time. I lie back on my bed, trying to recall our last night together at the party. I close my eyes and will him to emerge in my memory, pretending to be back there in the garden with him. I pretend to feel his hands touching me, and his voice soothing me. Jake is talking to me again, in my mind.

"… _Just take small steps, Bella…"_

"… _maybe it's easier if you touch him…"_

I open my eyes instantly. I know what I have to do now. I rise again for the third time to try to open the bedroom door. My heart is beginning to pound, but I decide to ignore it.

_Third time's the charm._

I walk up to him, and pat him on his shoulder. He has his earphones in, and he jumps at my touch, not having heard me.

"What's wrong, Bella?" he asks me nervously.

"Uhm, nothing, I just…" my voice trails off.

_I can do this. I have to._

I clear my throat and continue. "I was just wondering if you were coming to bed soon." The words spill quickly out of my mouth, as if they would get stuck if I didn't rush them.

He looks at me with a strange expression, and I can almost see the wheels turning inside of his brain.

_He has no idea how to interpret this._

"I can come to bed right now, if you'd like me too. Should I?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, if you like… I mean, maybe you're busy…" I motion to the computer and the game he's been occupied with.

"Okay, just give me a few minutes, Bella. I'll be right there." He quickly turns off the PC and heads to the bathroom. I slide under the duvet as I hear him brush his teeth. A few minutes later, he appears in the doorway. After taking his clothes off, he sits on the bed, running his hand through his hair as he always does when he's nervous or agitated.

_Is he nervous? Well, that makes two of us._

He lies down in the bed, under the duvet, on his back as usual. He stares at the ceiling, apparently not sure what to do or say.

_So, Bella, what did you plan to do now? Just let him lie there, or what?_ I hear Jake's voice in my mind, pushing me.

_No, I wasn't planning on that. I planned on… What_ _did I plan, again?_

I have no idea. I haven't really thought this through. I didn't consider what I should do if I actually got him to bed.

_Maybe that's because you didn't really think you'd have the balls to do this?_ Jake is back inside of my head again.

_Oh, shut up_ _, you._

I turn to lie on my side, facing Edward. He's waiting for me to speak, which makes sense since I'm the one who asked him to bed. He slowly turns his head and watches me patiently.

I brace myself and ask the question.

"Can I touch you?" I wait breathlessly for his answer.

He exhales loudly. I haven't even noticed he is holding his breath.

"Do you want to? Because if you do, that's okay," he says.

I take a deep breath, raise my hand and then stop. My breath is increasing again, and I feel a familiar ache in my chest as my abdominal muscles start to constrict.

_Something_ _is wrong. I feel uncomfortable. I need smaller steps._

I realize he's watching me; those vibrant green eyes are following my every move. I don't want him to watch for several reasons. I feel uncomfortable, and I don't want him to watch if this doesn't work out. I don't want him to see my struggle, but most of all, I don't want him to see me fail. I'm still not sure if I can do this.

I close my eyes and will myself to speak.

"Can you close your eyes? I just want to try one thing."

He abides, and just lies there. He's got one arm under his head; the other arm, the one closest to me, is casually lying alongside of his body. The rest of his body is covered with the duvet, and I move to slide it off of him. I bring it down to the brim of his underwear, stopping there.

_Small steps, Bella. Small steps._

I close my eyes to gain courage.

"Just… don't move. Lay very still," I whisper while I sit up, crossing my legs underneath me.

I open my eyes and let them fall on my husbands face, as if I'm seeing it for the first time. I look at his closed eyes, at his long dark lashes. I look at his nose; it has a small bump on it. It reminds me of the nose of some Greek statue.

His cheeks have light stubble on it, and I realize he hasn't shaved in a couple of days. I let my eyes follow his jaw line. It is strong and manly, and I suddenly have the urge to touch. I lean forward and touch him lightly, tracing his jaw with my fingertips. His scruff is tickling the back of my hand as I stroke his cheek.

I sit back again, watching him. I've avoided looking at him for so long, that I've forgotten what he looks like naked. I scoot closer to him; my knees are almost touching his arm. I run my hands along his throat, over his Adams apple, down to the small void where his collarbones meet. My thumb fits right in there. I've never noticed that before. I slide my fingers along his jugular vein and continue down to his chest. I let my hand rest above his heart, close my eyes and concentrate on what I feel.

I feel his heart beating; its pace is increasing slightly. His skin feels soft and warm, and my hand recognizes the sensation from caressing the kids. It's the feeling of touching another human being. I let my hand wander further down, my eyes still closed. His chest hair tickles me softly inside of my palm, and I feel his nipple harden as I stroke his chest. This reaction startles me, and I quickly take my hand off him.

I open my eyes, but the response of his body seems to be involuntary since I see no other sign of desire in his body. I close my eyes again and let my hands explore him further: his shoulders, his upper arm, the soft hair on his lower arm. My fingers trace his fingers, and I remember the feeling of holding his hands.

I lie down on my side, my elbow on the pillow and my head in my hand. The other hand is finding its way back to his body, resting for a while on his chest. I concentrate again on the feeling of his skin. He is always warmer than me, and I let the warmth spread from his skin, through my hand and my arm, to my heart. I skim over his chest, stroking my hand down to his stomach. He's got some hair there as well, and I follow the happy trail of soft, golden tiny curls leading south, down to…

I abruptly stop.

He turns his head, and watches me softly.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper with tears in my eyes. My hand is hovering in the air above his pubic bone.

"Oh, honey, don't be. I'm not," he whispers back.

"You're not?" I watch him incredulously. I stopped touching him just when I was about to reach his sex. He surely must be disappointed in me.

He raises his hand and touches mine. "No Bella, you've made me very happy."


	11. Towels and Guilty Pleasures

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my betas on this chapter!**

* * *

_**Towels and Guilty Pleasures**_

**x.x.x**

EPOV

_She touched me._

_She_ touched _me._

_She touched me._

_Now I'm horny._

I lie in bed, hearing her breathing evenly next to me. She is asleep, and I'm not sleepy at all. She touched me, she finally touched me, and now I'm horny. I'm so thankful I was able to hide it from her while she was awake, because I sincerely believe that she would have freaked out if she noticed the hard-on I was hiding under that duvet. It's a good thing she stopped before she got there.

I think about the look on her face when she realized she had withdrawn her hand just before reaching the hem of my underwear, and I feel awful. She actually believed I would be disappointed that she couldn't go further than that. Well, I felt a small amount of disappointment, I can't deny that. But to be honest, I didn't care. I was just so thrilled that she actually touched me.

I've craved for her touch for so long. I close my eyes and think about her small, gentle hands. I recall the feeling of those hands stroking my face, my arms, my chest and my abdomen. I feel the soft coolness of her fingers, and remember how her palm stilled above my beating heart. She really felt me. She never says that she loves me anymore, but I felt it in that touch, and that is all I need to know.

I realize that this must have been hard for her, but she got over it and she touched me. I know about her issues with touching, about the panic attacks she's been having when I get too close. She's working so hard to allow me near her, and some things are working better than others. One thing I do know is that she can't handle my desire. That is still too difficult for her, which is why I'm relieved she never discovered my hard-on. Now I know one more thing. Touching works better when she is in charge; when she does the touching, not me.

_I can deal with that. Being touched is not bad…_

_Maybe, in a while, she will be able to touch me further down…_

Before I can stop myself, I imagine her hands stroking the length of me, running lightly up and down my hard cock. I feel myself twitch, and groan as I imagine her fingers sliding over the head, glistening with…

_Oh fuck, stop it Cullen, control yourself!_

I cover my face with my pillow, trying to muffle the moans that are escaping my mouth.

_Great, now I'm even harder. I have to take care of_ _this hard-on, I can't sleep with this. If I do, I'll wake up with the blue-balls from hell._

I quietly sneak out of bed, and pad out into the hallway. I get a towel from the bathroom, and head for the computer in the living room. I fire it up and sit down, wincing as the back of my bare thighs come into contact with the cold chair. I tap my fingers impatiently on the table, because this always seems to take too long. I want to be back in the warm bed, listening to Bella's breathing. Instead, I'm about to soil a towel looking at naked women.

I feel like such an asshole. What kind of husband does this? My wife is apparently dealing with some issues, probably related to sex, and instead of supporting her I sneak out of our marital bed to watch porn and jerk off.

_I would die if she knew._

The screen is waking up. I see the familiar window icon emerging, and I log into my account. I've hidden my porn stash way deep in the root directory, in a folder she'll probably never find. I begin browsing the pictures, looking for a particular girl. I have several pictures of her, and I like this girl because she reminds me of how Bella was when we first met.

_I have to rearrange these pictures so it'l_ _l be easier to find what I want._

I settle for one black and white picture. The girl is wearing a school outfit with a short skirt and stockings. She's standing with one foot on a large stone, spreading her legs, and showing her bare pussy to the camera.

_God, that is such a_ _cliché. The fact that this turns me on is border-line embarrassing._

I lean back and try to relax. I stroke myself slowly, imagining Bella's soft, cool hand is doing the job, instead of my own warm and slightly rough one. I feel myself harden again, and I change the picture to a new one, with the same girl. I continue touching myself, sliding my fingers around my head, pressing lightly underneath it before dragging my hand down to cup my balls.

_This isn't doing it for me tonight._

I need sharper ammunition, and I know just where to get it. I change folders and open up the first picture. This is the best folder of them all. This is my hidden desires in pictures, my secret wants on display. These are the things I always wanted to do with Bella, but could never tell her. With her issues now, it would probably scare her out of having sex for a long time.

I groan as I browse through the pictures. There, this one… A dark haired woman is on her back, bound to a bed, legs and arms spread wide. Here eyes are covered with a silky black blindfold, her mouth and pussy are open, inviting, wanting and waiting.

_God, if I could_ _watch Bella like this._

_Waiting for me, trusting me with her body…_

_She would be so beautiful._

I feel my cock twitch in my hands and my balls tighten, and change to another picture, pumping my hand harder and faster. I look at a woman lying face down on a bed. A pillow beneath her hips is lifting her ass up. Her legs are spread, her knees are bent, and her feet are up in the air. Her hands are on the bed, close to her breasts, as if she is about to do a push-up. Her upper arms are tied together, keeping her elbows apart with a space exactly as broad as her back. Her feet are above her ass, and her ankles are tied to the wrists of her hands, making it impossible for her to lower her feet.

I close my eyes and envision Bella in front of me, lying like that, tied up with her pussy bare and open, waiting for me to touch her, caress her. I imagine myself sitting beside her, caressing her back, slowly massaging the cheeks of her small, perfect ass. I hear her moan in my head as I see myself dipping my fingers into her, pressing rhythmically on that sweet spot inside, making her come again and again and again…

_So pretty…_

_Fuuuuuck_

I feel my balls tighten as I'm about to come, and I take the towel to catch the juices I spill while watching other women than my wife.

I don't even look at the screen as I rise and turn the computer off. I toss the towel in the laundry basket, making a mental note to do the laundry myself tomorrow, so she won't have to pick up my used, filthy piece of masturbatory evidence, which by then will be starchy due to the dried semen.

I'm angry and disgusted at myself for doing this again. I feel guilty, and I don't want to watch those porn stash women. I want to watch Bella, but I can't. I feel like I'm cheating on her, in some twisted way. I mean, I think about her when I do it, it's not like I want any of those women instead. They are merely a substitute for the real thing, and something to get my imagination started.

As I head back to our bedroom, I try not to think about my nightly wank. I pause briefly before I open the door, wanting to leave the horny part of me outside of our bedroom.

I slide quietly back into bed, being cautious so I don't wake her up. I lie awake for a while, thinking, watching her sleep. She has been so distant for so long, and I've felt cut out of her life. Sometimes I've felt like an extra in a movie. It was as she was living in a bubble some days, detached from life. I was so sure that she didn't want me anymore; I had even looked into the legal aspects of a divorce, just in case she would want one. I thought it was the end of our marriage, that night when she ran away from me and hid in the bathroom. Thank god it wasn't. Maybe someday I'll be able to take the horny part with me to bed, and give that to Bella again. She did touch me tonight, after all. There is still hope.

I drift off into a light sleep, filled with pictures of a naked Bella, silk ropes and blindfolds.

**x.x.x**

BPOV

_I touched him tonight._

_I felt him, really felt him, and it was nice._

_God,_ _I've missed that._

_I'm proud of myself._

Before we fall asleep, we lie together, silently watching each other. We say nothing, because there is no need to. He's got a serene smile on his face, and I feel blissful but confused. Touching him awoke feelings that have been forgotten for a long time, and it caught me by surprise. My fingers are still tingling from touching him; it feels like electric currents are running up and down my fingertips. The tension tonight has tired me out, and my eyelids are getting heavy. As I slowly doze off to sleep, his eyes are the last thing I see.

I wake up in the middle of the night, feeling the bed move slightly, and hearing Edward quietly leave the bedroom. He does this sometimes when he thinks I'm asleep. What he fails to realize is how lightly I sleep, and how easily I wake up. I have also developed that excellent night hearing that seems to come with motherhood. I guess that is the acoustic equivalence of night vision. On rare occasions I have pretended to stir in our bed, doing an "almost waking up"-impression, and that always makes him lie down again.

I know what he's up to, and I listen to his footsteps as they head for the bathroom. I hear him open a drawer and rustle with some fabric, which most likely is a towel or something that I'll find in the laundry basket tomorrow. Then I hear him pad to the living room, and I recognize the buzzing of the computer as he fires it up. I listen to the sound of the chair being pulled out, and hear a low gasp as he sits down. I'm guessing the chair is cold, and it makes me snicker a bit.

_He_ _apparently needs to cool down…_

I hear a low tapping sound I don't recognize; I don't usually hear that sound during nights like these. As it stops, it is replaced by the clicking sound of the mouse.

I wait, without breathing, for the sound I know is coming. There it is, the quiet sound of skin stroking skin at a slow pace. I hear the chair creak as he shifts his position, and then I hear the clicking of the mouse again. I'm guessing he's not happy with whoever he's watching. The new one seems to be doing the trick, and I can hear the stroking sound going faster, adding a low slapping noise. His breathing increases and hitches. The sound of him exhaling soon blends in with the rustle of fabric.

_So, I guess he's done._

I listen to him padding back to our room, and I reposition myself as I was when he left, slowing my breathing so he won't notice I'm awake. He falls asleep after a while, but seems restless. I lie awake for a long time, pondering his nightly escapades by the computer.

I'm not sure what to think about it. A part of me is sad, and a little jealous. I think I'm not that nice to look at anymore, with my empty boobs and all. I know it is irrational, since I feel so uncomfortable when he watches me with desire in his eyes, but it still hurts that he looks at other women. I know how they probably look: big breasts filled with silicone, sweet faces, no cellulite, firm abdomen, tanned skin, sexy underwear, or more likely, butt-naked. I don't look like those women at all, and compared to them I'm a failure. Plus, I don't do sex anymore. Those women do, apparently.

The other part of me, the not so jealous part, feels almost relieved that he chose to leave the room to jerk off, instead of bothering me. If he had turned his interest to me, I probably would have had a complete break-down. I can barely handle him kissing me on the cheek, and just a few hours ago I freaked out when I realized my hand was dangerously close to touching his cock. So, he wanting to have sex with me, instead of dating the porn stash and "Miss Manuela," would have been a bad idea.

I decide that I'm thankful, and that it was thoughtful of him to take the matter into his own hands, so to speak. I wish I could be the one to help him with this, though. It was probably my touching that made him horny anyway, so it's my fault that he had to please himself on a cold chair in the living room. If I was a better wife I would have done that for him, in the warm and cosy bed, with my hands and mouth. But I'm not, I'm a bad wife, and apparently also a cock tease.

I'm displeased with myself and my inability to be a sexual being. Sex never used to be an issue; I used to love it, maybe too much at times. I never said no to sex. Well, of course I did if the guy didn't do it for me, and I had my standards, but when I found someone I liked I always went for it. Being like this, as I am now, it isn't me. I don't recognize myself, and it freaks me out.

_I started out good, w_ _ith the touching._

_But still, in some ways, I feel like I've failed._

I feel tears form in the corner of my eyes.

_Oh no you don't!_ I hear Jake's voice in my head, scolding me.

_You are not allowed to feel like a failure now. Small steps, remember?_ Imaginary Jake points his finger at me, narrowing his eyes.

I'm so glad I was born with such a vivid imagination. I smile at my inner Jake, wipe away the tears, and fall asleep.


	12. Reassurance and Research

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my betas on this chapter!**

* * *

_**Reassurance and Research**_

I wake up in the morning, slightly disoriented and a bit heavy-headed. Lying awake at night usually does that to me, and I rub my eyes before I curl up on my side, enjoying the warmth under the thick duvet. As I watch the alarm clock, I realize I've slept longer than usual – the kids tend to wake up between seven or eight a.m., and most of the time I'm the one who gets up and makes them breakfast. This morning I have heard nothing from the kids, which is odd since it is nine thirty already. I yawn and stretch in bed, feel my limbs slowly waking up and starting to function. I wiggle my feet and sigh.

_What a night_ _._

I smile when I think about what I accomplished last night. I was able to touch him, and I enjoyed it. Looking at my hands in wonder, I recall the feeling of his soft skin and tickly chest hair. My brows crease when I remember how it all ended, with me jerking my hands off him close to his lower regions. He seemed genuinely happy though, and even if my actions forced him to have an encounter with his right hand during the night, I actually think he enjoyed it. I sigh, stroke my hands over my body, and feel the smooth skin on my abdomen and the softness of my breasts.

_This is what it would feel like if Edward's hands_ _were touching me._

Closing my eyes I focus on the feeling, trying to forget the fact that the hands touching me are my own, and instead I imagine they are his. I feel my nipples react to the touch, and slowly rub my thumb over the stiffened, pebbled flesh. A warm pulsating sensation is spreading between my legs, and I groan as I move my hands further down, my fingers sliding between my wet folds.

_He could be doing this._

A low thud somewhere in the house interrupts me, and I reluctantly stop touching myself, listening carefully. I hear the kids playing in the living room, running around and laughing, when Edward suddenly hushes at them.

"Kids, be quiet! Mom is sleeping, she's tired and she needs to rest."

I can barely hear him; he's talking quietly so he won't disturb me. The kids disappear into Benji's room, and I hear Edward hovering outside our bedroom door for a few seconds before he heads out to the kitchen. I can't help but wonder if he heard me groan as I touched myself. I imagine him standing outside the door, leaning his head against it and listening to me moaning. I smile, slightly embarrassed by myself, and listen to Edward rustling around in the kitchen. I hear the sound of the electric kettle being filled with water, and the fridge being opened. I snuggle in our bed, relishing the peaceful silence in the bedroom. My breathing is slowing down, and as I'm drifting off, the phone rings, startling me. My heart is pounding as Edward is hurrying to answer, and I can tell by his voice that the call is for me.

_It sounds like…_ _he's talking to…_

He's using his annoyingly polite and agreeable voice, which means it's not my parents or a friend of mine. This must be my grandmother, she's the only one he talks to like this. I haven't talked to her in along time, and I feel guilt wash over me. She lives alone, far from us, and I should call her more often. I decide it's time to get up, I can't very well pretend to sleep anymore after the phone has been ringing.

Edward is making breakfast, putting a pot of tea, honey, milk, butter, marmalade and cheese on the table. The toaster is on, and I can smell the bread turning golden brown. A ray of sunlight falls through the window across the room, making the small grains of dust that are dancing and floating weightlessly in the air visible. He looks up, and his eyes brighten when he sees me.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well? I hope the kids didn't wake you up." He busies himself with bringing cups, spoons and knifes while talking.

"No, they didn't. But the phone call did, who was it?" I yawn again, incredibly thankful that he let me sleep in this morning.

"It was your grandmother, I told her you were asleep and that you'd call her back after breakfast."

I smile at him and nod in appreciation. We get the kids ready for breakfast and sit down, chatting and reading the paper while we eat. When the kids have left the table he clears his throat, suddenly sounding uncertain.

"So… about last night? I just wanted to… you know, say thank you." He quiets for a while before he continues.

"I really appreciated it."

"You did?" I smile at him, feelings of happiness and victory rushing through my veins like a drug, increasing my heartbeat and making my hands tremble.

_He liked it! I made him happy!_

"Yeah… I'm thinking… if you didn't think it was, like, horrifying or something, then maybe we could do it again sometime?" He blushes as he speaks, and I can't help but smile wider.

"No, it wasn't horrifying. Actually, I thought it was nice. I… I've missed it. Also, I kind of had forgotten what it felt like to touch you, and how you look, you know, naked..." suddenly I'm embarrassed, and we are both blushing like teenagers.

_How silly. Two grown-ups, acting like we've never seen a naked body before_.

I reach my still trembling hand across the table and he takes it. We return to reading our papers, holding hands, and still blushing slightly. I feel connected somehow, holding his hand. It is a different and unfamiliar feeling. For so long, I've felt isolated and detached from reality, like there has been an invisible bubble around me. Touching Edward like this gets me in touch with the surrounding world again, and it is scary and freeing at the same time. In some ways I miss my bubble, it is safe. I'm not sure if I know how to handle the world without it.

**x.x.x**

When breakfast is finished and the dishes have been taken care of, Edward takes the kids outside to give me an opportunity to talk to my grandmother without being interrupted. I call her from the bedroom, close the door and creep up in the bed, leaning against the pillows. She answers, and her voice brings me back to childhood and happy times, Christmas trees and candied apples. My eyes water and I sigh deeply.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" I hear the concern in her voice, and since I can't hide anything from granny, I spill it. Everything. I tell her about how bad things have been for such a long time, how I've felt like I've got the responsibilities for everything at home, about having to be all these women and never being able to fully relax, about the pressure, the anger, the sadness, the feeling of being disconnected, and about my issues with touching and sex. Yes, I tell my grandmother about that, too. She listens to everything I say, asking occasional questions.

When I'm finished she is quiet for some time, and I start to wonder if she's fallen asleep listening to my ranting.

"Granny?" I ask. "Are you still there?"

"I'm sorry, darling, of course I am. I was just thinking. How come you've never told me this before?"

"Because I'm ashamed! I feel like there is something wrong with me, I feel guilty for not being a good wife."

She pauses again and I'm waiting, patiently.

"You know how I've been a nurse for my entire life, even after I was supposed to be retired?"

"Um, yeah, why?"

"Well, I worked at the maternity ward for several years, and when I was supposed to retire I volunteered for a few years at a free clinic. You remember that, right? I was mostly dealing with postnatal care and taking care of mothers. I saw a lot of women describing things that were quite similar to what you are talking about."

I'm quiet, not really knowing what to say. Are there others like me?

"Bella, it sounds a lot like you are suffering from some kind of depression. There is this thing called postpartum depression, it is not that unusual for women to feel depressed after giving birth. Maybe it could be something like that? It sounds like you been dealing with this since after Kate was born, and I'm guessing it has gotten worse because you haven't been getting any help. You haven't told your mother about this, either?"

"No, of course not! She and dad, they… well, they love Edward. And I'm not sure how they would react… This could be an actual medical condition?"

"Yes Bella, it could. All the things you have described to me: feeling sad, angry, and anxious all the time, feelings of being not good enough, the guilt, feeling worthless… I've seen it before, you know. You need to talk to Renee about this; of course they will support you. And yes, they love Edward, but they love you more."

She pauses to think again. I'm quiet, waiting for more information.

"Anyway, my point is that you can get help if it actually is depression. There is therapy, or medication if therapy doesn't help. There are also a lot of things you can do to help yourself, if you have the support of your family. It sounds to me like you're well on your way with those things. You've talked to Edward about helping you at home, you've expressed some your feelings, and you are trying to make some changes for yourself. Most of all, you need some rest from everything. You don't need to be superwoman."

I don't know how to feel about this. I'm not depressed, right? Others get depressed, I don't. This doesn't fit with the picture I have of myself, of who I am.

_What picture? Do I even know who I am anymore?_

"So, postpartum depression, huh? I'm going to Google this."

"You're gonna what?"

"I need to learn more, use the internet, do a little research, you know? Never mind, just…. Thank you. Really."

"Bella, good luck, and kiss the kids for me. Kiss Edward, too, or at least tell him I told you to. I love you, you know."

"I love you too. I miss you.

We say our goodbyes, and I sit in my bed for a while before I get up and go to the computer. I open up Google, type "postpartum depression" and start to read. It blows my mind. It is all there, all the things I've experienced these last years. One of the passages makes my breath hitch:

"Role strain - Women often suffer from role strain over conflicting and overwhelming responsibilities in their life. The more roles a woman is expected to play (mother, wife, working woman), the more vulnerable she is to role strain and subsequent stress and depression. Depression is more common in women who receive little help with housework and child care."

It's like I'm reading about me. It puts into words so many things I've been thinking and feeling. Page after page describes the symptoms I know so well, and when I find a site with the captions "What is postpartum depression" and "Who gets postpartum depression" it becomes evident. I _am_ reading about me.

I see myself in the "What's":

\- Feeling sad or down often. _Yeah, all the time. It's like my way of being nowadays._

\- Feeling restless, irritable or anxious. _Yup, that too. Lashing out at Benji for wanting to help me with the laundry, what the hell was that, of not irritable? And I think I do that a lot…._

\- Loss of interest or pleasure in life. _I don't care much about anything now. I just… exist._

\- Feeling hopeless, worthless or guilty. _Well… yeah. Since I consider myself the worst wife ever, and feel constantly guilty for not being good enough, this pretty much applies._

I see myself in the "Who's":

\- Depression not related to pregnancy. _I think my past experience with James and my really irrational reasons to stick with him for so long might fit in here. Back then I never thought about it as being depressed, but maybe it was?_

\- Difficult or stressful marriage or relationship. I _wonder what came first, though? Did my marriage become stressful because of me being depressed, or was it the other way around? Or has it evolved simultaneously?_

\- Few family members or friends to talk to and depend on. _Sadly, yes… I don't talk to my parents too much about this stuff. It's always hunky dory with them. And my friends… Well, there aren't that many and none of them really know me anyway. Only Jake does that, apart from Edward, of course._

**x.x.x**

I read for an hour, until Edward and the kids come back in, asking for lunch. I'm absentminded, incoherent and Edward is probably wondering what the hell has happened to me. I spend the rest of the day thinking about what I've discovered. I need to figure out what to do about this, what to tell Edward. I'm not sure how I feel, I'm equally relieved that there are others like me and that there is help, as I'm ashamed that I haven't been able to deal with it on my own. Parts of me think that this is bullshit, that I'm not depressed at all, and that I'm just being a whiney bitch. I feel stupid, confused and I'm worried what Edward might think. I shake my head and decide to just get it over with. I reopen the pages I've read on postpartum depression, call out to Edward, and tell him to sit down.

He listens quietly as I tell him what I've found out, and he spends the rest of the evening reading about depression. We don't talk much; I've got a lot on my mind, and apparently, so does he. It worries me that I can't read him at all. I have no idea what he is thinking, and I'm getting nervous. Will he think I'm crazy? Will he leave me when he realizes how fucked up I am, or will he see this as an opportunity to get some help?

Edward is still by the computer as I go to bed, and I toss and turn for a long time before I finally fall asleep. I wake up late at night when Edward joins me in bed.

"Bella? Are you awake?" he whispers.

"Yes" I answer quietly. I'm lying on my side, my back to him, as usual.

"Can I hold you?"

I hesitate, unsure of how my body will react to him this time. I have panicked and left the bed so many times, and I don't want to do that now. I focus on my body, trying to remember the feelings from this morning. Imagining his hand on my body was nice, and I need to believe that it can be nice in real life as well. I reach behind my back, grabbing his hand. Gently, I pull him towards me, and he scoots closer, nuzzling my hair and sneaking his arm around my waist.

He is lying behind me, holding me close, and we fall asleep.


	13. Absence and Abstinence

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide. Oh, and Kassiah owns OJward. This is for her...**

**Thank you JillM12, Remylebeauishot and netracullen, my betas on this chapter!**

* * *

_**Absence and Abstinence**_

I wake up early the next morning, feeling well-rested after yesterday's lie-in and a night's deep, dreamless sleep. I quietly slip out of bed, put on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, and sneak out of the bedroom. I look at the clock in the kitchen, it's a few minutes past seven, and the kids are still asleep. I smile and shake my head.

_That is just my luck. I bet they don't wake up until nine today,_ _simply because I got up early._

It still is too early for breakfast, but I feel a bit chilly and I need something warm to drink. I make myself some Earl Grey tea, add some honey, and go to the terrace door in the kitchen. I'm looking out at the terrace, the flower beds and the yard, holding the mug of tea to my chest. The morning sun makes the dew glisten in the grass, and some of my flowers have pearls of crystal clear water on their petals. I open the door and step out on the terrace, and then on the grass. I walk slowly across the lawn, noticing it is time to mow it again. I feel the wet grass tickle the soles of my bare feet, and the dew is wetting my toes.

_If Edward saw this he would scoff at me and tell me to put my shoes on_ _._

I giggle a little at the thought of my husband and his large but delicate feet. I'm always walking around in my garden barefooted in the summer; I have loved the feeling of the ground under my bare feet since I was a kid. Edward hates it, because his feet are more sensitive than mine, and he always steps on something prickly. My feet are hardened, and I don't care much about prickly things or small stones. I just keep walking, because I know the pain is momentary, and I learned during my tomboy kid years that pain subsides quickly if you ignore it. To me, physical pain is passing, a temporarily mishap not worthy of much noticing. Edward notices pain; he feels it much more vividly than I do.

I get rid of a few killer slugs before I head back inside. The morning sun is warm, but the air is still chilly. I curl up on the couch under a fleece blanket, rub the warmth back into my cold feet, and relax. The house is quiet, aside from an occasional snore from the kids rooms, and the ticking of the kitchen clock. I empty my head and drift off into a semi-conscious state, creating that relaxing inner space that Edward refers to as my "bubble". I lose track of time as I sit there, and suddenly I'm being jerked out of the bubble by Edward's voice.

_I didn't realize he was up._ _Oh, and the kids are apparently awake as well. How long have I been here?_

"Hey, Bella? What would you feel about getting the kids out of here for a day, maybe over night? They can visit my parents and sleep at the summer house."

"Um, what?" I'm still slightly confused. I furrow my brows as I try to make my brain work properly again.

"I just thought it might be nice to be alone for a day, just chill, maybe catch a movie, have a glass of wine, talk a little and get a full night's sleep."

My mind is functioning again, and I think for a few seconds. I realize that it's actually a great idea. As much as I love the kids, I don't think Edward and I have been on our own since… I don't even remember. It must have been years. I nod in appreciation.

"Sure, sounds great! Do you think Esme and Carlisle will be at the house this weekend?"

"I guess so. I'll give them a call after breakfast. Have you eaten?"

"No, I haven't. I've just been sitting here for a while." I smile sheepishly, stand up, and follow him into the kitchen. As I make a pot of tea, he opens the fridge. I watch him standing there, in a ray of sunlight. He has a pair of grey sweatpants on, they hang low and loose, showing the brim of his underwear and the happy trail above. He has no tee on, and the cold air from the fridge gives him goose bumps and makes his nipples erect. He scratches his chest hair a few times and yawns. I see his eyes roaming the shelves in the fridge, and settling on a carton of orange juice. He brings it out, opens it, and tilts his head backwards. My eyes follow the carton as he raises it to his lips, and as he swallows gulp after gulp, I watch the outline of his jaw, his neck, his heaving chest, and his bobbing Adam's apple. When he is done he puts the juice down, sighs contently and turns to me. He has an orange juice moustache covering his upper lip, and I giggle.

"Um, Edward, you have something there." I tap my index finger on my upper lip. His tongue darts out, licking the juice off in one long stroke, before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. My eyes are locked at his lips, and he raises an eyebrow and smirks at me.

"See something you like?" He drags his hands through his ruffled bed hair and leans against the counter.

I huff at him and turn away to hide the blush that is spreading across my cheeks.

Kate and Benji help us to make breakfast, and we eat. Edward finishes quickly, eager to call his parents about leaving the kids at their place for a weekend. He put his dishes on the kitchen counter and then leans in to kiss me on the cheek. I feel my body react to his closeness immediately, it's like a reflex, and my chest tightens. I close my eyes, take a deep breath through my nose, and try to focus on something else to divert myself from the sudden infringement of my personal space. _His scent._ He smells like warm skin with a vague hint of vanilla, a homely and secure scent that calms me down, and dissipates the uneasiness like a puff of smoke in a breeze. I feel his lips touching my cheeks lightly before he continues to the hallway in search of his cell phone.

_Wow, that worked_ _out quite well._

I just don't get myself. It seems like there is no rhyme or reason about how I react to Edward, no recipe for success. Some things trigger reflexes in my body like the bell did to Pavlov's dogs. Only I don't drool like they did, I cringe. I can't decipher what those triggers are, and how to avoid them. It's like a big tangle of strange irrational causes and effects. I don't like irrational, I'm a logical person, and I understand reason better than feelings. This is very far from reason, and very much about feelings.

_I need to_ _analyse this somehow, untangle the mess, so to speak._

The kids are outside playing, Benji is yelling with delight as Kate pushes him on the swing we bought last year. Listening absent-mindedly to the kids playing and Edward chatting on the phone, I pull my legs up underneath my body; grab an old envelope from yesterday's pile of mail, and a pencil, and start scrabbling down notes. My mind is going into analysis mode, wrestling with what happened a few minutes ago, turning it inside out, upside down, and looking at it from different angles, comparing it to previous incidents. Some kind of pattern is taking form in front of my eyes, but I can't see it clearly. I lean my head against the back of the couch, staring blindly across the room, thinking deeply. As Kate rushes by to give me a kiss before going to the bathroom, her hair creates a puff of air, and I feel her familiar scent. I breathe deeply through my nose, and it suddenly dawns on me. I look at my notes, tilt my head, and feel a smile slowly spread across my face.

_Is it possible? Did I really just understand something about this?_

I go over it again in my head.

_When_ _I feel bad about Edward touching me, I almost hyperventilate. I breathe quickly, with shallow breaths through my mouth. This time I did the opposite, and breathed through my nose instead. That made my breaths slower, and I felt his scent. It seems like his scent is calming me, familiar as it is._

_Maybe this could help… I need to try this._

It is a small step, but I figure all things that can help are good things. It may not work every time, but now I have at least _something_. Something is definitely better than nothing.

"We don't have any plans for next weekend, do we?" Edward's voice startles me and abruptly shakes me out of my thoughts. I frown, trying to remember but not succeeding.

"Why don't you go check the calendar? I'm sure we've written it down if we did make plans. I don't recall any, though."

He hurries over to the kitchen, the phone still in his hand, and eyes the calendar.

"Nope," he says into the phone. "We're free next weekend. We'll bring the kids on Saturday, have lunch with you, and come back to get the kids on Sunday afternoon. How's that sounding?"

He listens to the answer, chuckles, and hang up with a "Bye, Mom!"

_So, I guess we are without kids for an entire_ _day and night next weekend. That is going to be so nice!_

I smile at Edward as he runs out in the yard, telling the kids about their sleepover at the grandparents' summerhouse next week. Kate squees with joy, and Benji starts running in circles, screaming "Calyle, Calyle, Calyle is crazy!" before faking a fall to the ground, rolling around laughing. Yeah, grandpa "Calyle" will have a handful with that one next weekend…

x.x.x

Monday, I think about sleeping an entire night, and not having to get up early in the morning to feed the kids.

Tuesday, I think about having dinner with Edward, maybe in a nice restaurant, without having to nag at the kids about finishing their meal and not bickering at the table. It will be nice to be able to have a full conversation without being interrupted.

Wednesday, I think about sitting in the sun having a cup of coffee in the afternoon, enjoying the silence, and not having one eye at the kids all the time.

Thursday, I think about going to bed on Saturday night, and start wondering what is expected of me. I feel oddly worried.

Friday, I think about how these twenty-four hours without kids are the perfect set up for sex, and I panic.

Suddenly, it seems like this entire thing means that he is expecting, or at least hoping for, me to sleep with him. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Getting the kids out of the house, suggesting a date with a nice dinner and a movie, some wine…

_Total sex set-up._

I feel like I'm forced into a trap. This is a set-up for failure. If he wants what I think he does, he is going to be disappointed again. And he is right of course; a night without kids should be a night of hot, steamy sex. That's what you're supposed to do on a kid-free night. It's like a rule, one of the ten commandments of parenting. It's right there, after "Thou shalt love your child" and "Thou shalt not give your child candy on a weekday": "Thou shalt have sexual intercourse on kid-free nights".

_I'm going to disappoint him again._

x.x.x

The ride to Esme and Carlisle is quiet. I'm obsessing over the prospect of having to turn him down later tonight, and Edward is probably worrying about me being silent. The kids are asleep in the back seat, and I stare out the window at the trees passing by. A light drizzle is covering the windshield, before disappearing with the rhythmical sweeps of the windshield wiper. It is foggy outside, and the moist air is making my hair frizzy. I try to smooth it, cursing inwardly. I always feel awkward around Edward's parents, not knowing how to act natural, and having frizzy hair isn't going to help.

Carlisle and Esme are wonderful people, but they are so different from my own parents. My parents are easy going, they don't care too much about appearances, and they don't mind having you visiting spontaneously on a weekday. They don't care if the house isn't tidy when you arrive, and they don't use the best china and the crystal glasses if they have family over for dinner. If you want a beer when you're there, you just grab one. It is all very relaxed, and you feel like you are at home. Their house is your house, and even Edward feels that way. Edward's parents are very much the opposite. They use their best china for dinner, even if it is only us, and they offer drinks before dinner and put the food on the plate for you. I feel like a guest when I'm at their place. I don't feel like family, and I'm uncomfortable with that. Edward and I have talked about this several times, and truth be told, even he feels more comfortable around my parents than his own.

As we get closer to the summerhouse, the fog disappears and the sky clears up. We make a turn off the main road to the smaller bumpy one that leads to the house. I notice it is full of puddles; it had obviously been raining here earlier. I smile and reach to the back seat to wake Kate and Benji up.

_The kids_ _are going to love this. Thank God we brought rainwear and rubber boots. There is nothing like jumping in puddles when you are a kid._

As we park the car, Esme and Carlisle come out to greet us. The kids jump out of the car and run towards them with water splashing around their feet at every step. I take a deep breath, try to smooth my damp hair, plaster a smile on my face, and get out of the car. Lunch is almost ready when we arrive, and I offer to help but Esme tells me to sit down and just relax. I feel useless; I want to participate, to do my share, to earn the meal. Instead I just sit there and watch them run back and forth with plates, cutlery and pots, feeling silly and out of place. Edward wanders around, offers to help, but Esme waves him aside. "Go sit with your wife, dear. You are our guests today!" she says. Edward rolls his eyes, sits down next to me and mumbles, quiet, but still loud enough for me to hear: "They sure love to have guests… I'm their son, for crying out loud. Get off the high horses already!" He taps his feet impatiently, and I feel bad for him. It is one thing that I feel uncomfortable with my parents-in-law, but it is just plain sad that he sometimes feels the same about his own parents.

When lunch is finished we have coffee, and before I know it we kiss the kids goodbye and head back home. Edward is cheerful and happy, and I feel concerned and agitated. I haven't forgotten my worries about Edward's expectations, and even if I try I can't push them away entirely. The sun is breaking through, and I decide to do some yard work when we get home.

_There is nothing like_ _digging in the dirt to divert one's mind, and weeding the garden is one of my favourite diversions._

Most people dislike weeding the garden, but I enjoy it. I'm not very scrupulous about it, and sometimes I don't even bother to pull it up by the roots. I like weeding because it gives instant results, and because I get dirt under my fingernails. It makes me feel attached to life and to earth, it makes me feel alive. Oddly enough I even like the weeds, because I know it will come back in a few weeks, and I can't help but admire something so unyielding and persistent. It doesn't matter how much you try to get rid of it, it still comes back, thriving and flourishing. It lives through the drought, the frost, the wet, and adapts itself to the circumstances. I like that about weeds. Most people, if asked what flower they would want to be, choose a rose, a tulip, a lily, or an equally beautiful flower. I would choose a weed, a dandelion maybe, or burdock.

I leave both a dandelion and a burdock in the far away corner of the flower bed. I figure if I get rid of the dandelion before the seeds blow away, there is no harm done. Until then I can look at the bright yellow flower. I like the flowers on the burdock as well; the combination of purple and grey is adorable. I don't think that one will stay until it blooms, though. Edward hates the burdock. It is prickly.

I head into the shower, scrubbing my dirty fingers, and massaging my scalp with shampoo. I could stand in the shower for hours, if I only had enough hot water. My back is getting sore after bending over the weeds, and I know it is going to hurt later on.

When I get out of the bathroom, Edward is already dressed in a plain white v-necked tee, a green and blue checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and dark blue jeans. I go through my closet and chose a pair of white linen pants with wide legs. They fit smugly on my ass though, and Edward murmurs in appreciation when I turn my back at him to put on a dark blue top. His murmurs are making me slightly uncomfortable, and I still can't get rid of the feeling of being forced into the kid-free sex-trap.

"What do you feel like eating?" Edward asks.

"Hmm… I think this is a steak night. Yeah, steak with beer." My stomach is growling, thinking of food has made me realize how hungry I am.

The restaurant is the sports bar kind, with screens showing some random football game, and team shirts hanging on the walls. The steak is wonderful though, and I feel the tender meat melt in my mouth. I swallow a few gulps of beer, and clear my throat. I'm getting more nervous by the second, and Edward is eyeing me suspiciously.

"Bella, is something wrong? You haven't said much today, and you seem a little skittish."

"I'm sorry, I just feel a little uncomfortable. It's no big deal."

"Well, it seems like you are more than just a little uncomfortable. I was hoping to give you a nice and relaxing evening, but it seems like my efforts are a waste of time." He is sounding a bit angry, and I instantly feel small in my seat. I don't like it when he sounds angry or agitated, I feel like I want to go away and hide. I feel my shoulders tense, and I start to apologize.

"No, it is nice and relaxing, I just… I'm worried about tonight."

"I don't understand. It's not like this is a date where we barely know each other. What could there possibly be to worry about?"

I feel so silly, and I answer him so quietly I'm almost whispering.

"I'm worried that you maybe are expecting us to have sex. You know, with no kids at home, and all."

He stares at me, incredulously.

"Do you think I did this for sex?"

"Um, no… yes, maybe. I mean, I've been worried that maybe that was what you wanted, and I don't know if I can do it, and then you will be disappointed in me again."

"Bella, guys don't always want to have sex. Why do you think that?"

I think for a few seconds before I answer. Bits and pieces of my past are flashing before me, the past that taught me that sex actually is what men want, and that sex is what I am supposed to give them. I shake it off, and try to explain without telling him those specific details.

"Well, you can't really hide the fact that you want sex. I see it every time you get close to me. Or rather, I get poked by that fact. It is hard, and it is situated in your groin. So yes, that makes me think you want sex." I lean towards him over the table, not wanting the other guests to hear too much of this.

"Oh… I get a hard-on, so what? That doesn't mean I need to have sex. If you don't want to, then I don't want to either."

"That is so not true!" I laugh at him. "Don't tell me you don't want it, because that is just a lie."

"Alright, I do, but you know, I survive without it. And just because I have a hard-on, it doesn't mean I always want to have sex. Sometimes little Eddie here reacts on his own. He doesn't care if I'm tired or don't feel 'in the mood', he gets hard anyway. Sometimes even without any reason, it's like a reflex. He is simply not reliable. You shouldn't trust him at all!" He smiles at me.

I smile back at him, putting the last piece of delicious meat in my mouth. I chew and swallow, and finish the beer.

"So, you don't have any expectations about tonight?"

"Actually, I do. I expect you to feel relaxed and safe, and to sleep well. That's all."

"Thanks…" I feel relieved.

"But if you really, really want sex, I won't turn you down."

_Asshole!_ I kick his leg under the table, and he chuckles.

We pay for the food and head back to the car. I feel my back hurting more now, and I rub my shoulders all the way home. I catch Edward throwing questioning glances at me a few times. I explain how I became a bit too absorbed in weeding the garden, which resulted in sore and tense shoulders and back. He laughs at me and offers to give me a massage when we get home. "A totally non-sexual one, of course."

_I need that massage._

The house is dark and quiet when we get home, and it feels odd not to have Kate and Benji around. I'm tired, and undress quickly after brushing my teeth. Throwing myself on the bed, I close my eyes and yawn. Edward joins me, and positions himself over my bottom, his legs on each side of me.

"Do you still want that massage?"

I hum at him, nodding slightly.

He puts his warm hands on the small of my back, and starts to massage, up and down, adding a little more pressure every time. I feel his hands and thumbs kneading my muscles, one by one, releasing the tension and leaving them soft but tender. My shoulders get special attention, and the knots I have there are slowly dissipating. I fall asleep with his hands stroking my back, and I don't even wake up when he puts the lights out and rolls over to his side of the bed.


	14. Dreams and Dark Memories

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my lovely betas!**

* * *

_**Dreams and Dark Memories**_

_I was standing in a bar, hearing the music pumping and people partying. The_ _place was crowded and there were people all around me, but still they were strangely distant. I felt invisible in an uncomfortable way, nobody noticed me and it felt weird. My eyes scanned the place, and I recognized the bar at the campus where I used to hang in another life. A couple of familiar figures by the bar caught my attention and I slowly walked towards them. The crowd around me dispersed as I moved forward, and when I looked back, the space behind me was an empty void. I shook my head in disbelief, and turned to the two figures by the bar again. I kept walking, and people kept dissipating around me. I tried to place the familiar forms in my mind, but they had their backs to me and when I called to them they didn't seem to hear me. It was a girl and a boy, and they were obviously close. They spoke to each other with their heads close, and foreheads almost touching. He had his hand at the back of her neck, his fingers grazing the nape of her hair. As the bartender spoke to her she turned her head in my direction, and I froze. That familiar girl was me. I was watching myself. And "me" was at a bar, talking to Jake._

_I drew_ _closer, and placed myself at the end of the bar. I was close enough to hear the conversation, but the sounds were subdued and somewhat distorted. I recognized the words and I could vaguely recall the night I was witnessing. I felt nauseous, because I knew that this evening ended like so many other evenings during that period in my life._

_A blonde, short girl tried to get the bartenders attention, standing right behind Jake. I noticed his focus switch fr_ _om our conversation towards her. He moved aside and let her have his place at the bar. She giggled and flirted, and I watched the change in my facial expression as the realization hit. Jake wasn't going home with me tonight, the Casanova had found himself some fresh meat. I could see the joy in my face give way to sadness. I watched myself order and quickly down a couple of tequilas, my choice of drink when I felt blue, before I turned around and headed towards the dance floor. I noticed a resolute but destructive hint in my eyes as I saw myself pass by. The dance floor was my hunting ground, and I was on the prowl._

_I watched myself dance from a_ _far, feeling uncomfortable. I could see men gathering around me, getting nearer as I swayed to the music with my eyes closed and a smile on my lips. One of them crept closer, and I saw how he laid his hands on my hips, pushing his pelvis into me from behind. I almost expected myself to twirl around and slap him for rubbing himself against me, but that didn't happen. Instead I had to watch myself turn to the man, put my hands around his neck, and whisper words into his ears, as he grinned like a horny mongrel. I knew that his hard cock was pressed into my stomach, and I also knew that out there, on the dance floor, I was reeling in the feeling that I could do this to a man, that I could turn him on like this with the way I moved and the words I spoke. And I knew that deep down I was wishing I was dancing with Jake instead of this man._

_Watching me was like watching a train wreck of destructive sexual behaviour._

_Suddenly the scene changed, and I stood in the hallway of a small and ordinary apartment. I heard noises from the bedroom and I found myself reluctantly drawn towards them. I peeked around the corner and saw myself on all fours in the bed, the man behind me, pounding into me with ferocity. Although the angle was unfamiliar, the events that took place in front of me were not. I knew that his breath had that sickly-sweet scent you get from too much alcohol, and that it would take much too long for him to cum. I also knew that his hands were grabbing my hips a little too hard, and that I was going to have marks there tomorrow. I heard him growling and grunting, and myself moaning and panting, doing that porn-star act I used to be so good at. Somehow the thoughts that went through my mind, being fucked on that bed, floated across the room to where I was standing. I heard a muddled mix of half-drunk sentences:_

Is he ever going to finish? I'm going to have to fake it again. He sounds like an animal, it's almost amusing. What am I doing here, anyway? He isn't that hot, when I think about it. Wonder what Jake is doing? Did he get lucky with that silly girl? I think she had a lazy eye…

_And above it all I heard_ _the thoughts I desperately tried to repress at the time I was actually there, on all fours in that filthy bed. The words were repeating in the back of my mind, beneath all the other thoughts, rhythmically, with every thrust he made._

This

Is

Not

Me.

I

Am

Not

Here.

x.x.x

I wake up, startled, in the middle of the night. My heart is beating fast, and I am sweating. My dream was so real, and it is still fresh before my eyes. I sit up and lean my forehead against my knees, trying to calm down. I remember the night in my dreams, but I don't particularly feel like reliving it. I have had so many nights like that, and the men I've slept with are faceless forms without names. I don't even know if I remembered their names and faces in the morning. I usually left their apartments when they were still asleep, anxious to get home because I wanted a long, purifying shower and my own familiar bed.

I swing my feet off the bed and patter out of the bedroom, trying not to wake Edward. I grab my robe and wrap it around my body, shuddering from the chilly air. I go to the terrace door, looking out over the back yard. It is dusky outside; it is never entirely dark during the summer nights. A deer is walking slowly across the lawn, nibbling randomly at the grass. I tap the window and he lifts his head, watching me for a few minutes before deciding I'm not posing a threat to him, and continues his slow pace across the lawn.

I sit down on a chair and try to make sense of the dream I had.

_Saying no w_ _as never an option._

_I wonder why?_

I know that, at the time, I didn't mind the random sex with unknown dudes. I needed it in some weird way. It was rarely good sex, and I think I knew in advance that it wouldn't be good, but still I craved it. I loved the way they looked at me, the way I could make them react. Turning a man on was like a drug to me, and I got high on his horniness. Giving a man a hard-on made me feel like the king of the world, or at least the queen of sex. It made me feel like I was somebody. I was wanted by someone, and it didn't really matter who that somebody was as long as I got the high I wanted. Thinking back now it makes no sense to me. Coming down from that high was never a nice experience, and even if I didn't want to acknowledge it at the time, it always came with a load of self-loathing and disgust that I furiously tried to oppress. And to be honest, it did matter who that somebody was.

_I wanted Jake._

_Jake wasn't always available._

No, he wasn't always available. When he was, I was with him. Sex with Jake was different, because he actually cared about me. We didn't have entirely the same preferences when it came to sex, but he did the things I wanted him to, and I did the same for him. It was about giving and receiving, and it was good, always good. I never felt the urge to leave in the middle of the night, and I never needed to take a shower when I got home. Well, maybe I did need a shower, but I didn't want one. We never fell asleep after sex; we stayed awake all night talking. He told me his secrets, and I shared mine. Sometimes we slept for a while in the morning, ordered a pizza if we got hungry by noon, and ate it in bed while watching a movie. It wasn't unusual for me to stay until late in the afternoon before reluctantly heading back to my apartment.

_All the others were nothing but substitutes._

Besides being substitutes, they raised my low self-esteem. Well, at least for a while, before it sank deep again, sometimes even lower than before.

_To be honest, my self-esteem is still pretty low_ _…_

Someone taps my shoulder, and I jump off the chair, turn around and face Edward standing close to me.

"Holy shit, Edward, you scared me!" I punch him in the chest, furious and terrified.

He grabs my hands in mid-air to protect himself from my small fists.

"Calm down Bella, it's just me. What are you doing out here?"

He pulls me close and I rest my head against his chest, my fists still clenched. I'm trembling slightly, the tension from my dream and the shock of his sudden touch is still affecting me.

"I had a bad dream, and I couldn't go back to sleep." My voice is small.

"Shhh…" he soothes. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Um… No, I don't think so. It was about some things that happened… before you."

"Okay. Were they bad things?"

"Well, I didn't think it was at the time, but seeing it now kind of made me think it was."

"Were you hurt?"

"No, it wasn't like that at all. It was a bit scary, though. I was watching myself from afar in the dream, and I knew what was going to happen but I couldn't do anything about it. I wanted to change things, but all I could do was to watch."

"That doesn't sound nice."

"No, it wasn't." I shudder, and my eyes drift to the deer still wandering over the lawn in the dusk. "Can we please go back to bed? I'm kind of cold."

Edward takes my hand and leads me back to our bed. He lifts his duvet and motions for me to join him. I hesitate at first, but curl up against his body because I'm cold and still a bit on edge from the dream. The blinds are up, and the lights outside are gleaming through the window, shedding a pale light in the room. I feel Edward's hand on my head, twirling strands of my hair between his fingers. I'm lying with my head on his chest and my hand on his abdomen. The dream is still lingering in my mind; it has brought things that I have tried to forget for a long time to my attention.

I absentmindedly run my fingers back and forth across Edward's skin, and play with the tiny hair beneath his belly button. I follow the trail of hair with my index finger, smoothing it on the way down and ruffling it on the way back. I push the duvet away and watch his body in the faint light. I think about the difference between this thing I have with Edward, and the things from my past. I ponder the fact that when I should have said no to sex, I didn't have the courage. And now, when I have no reason not to have sex, I feel secure enough to actually say no. I can't help but wondering if this aversion to sex and touching stems from my old experiences, that this is some kind of backlash, or if it is about me being less insecure and feeling more in power of my own choices.

_Saying no is_ _an option now…_

I slowly slide the back of my hand over Edward's abdomen and down to his thighs. When my fingers linger over his groin he shudders slightly.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "It tickles a little, but just ignore it."

… _but t_ _hat doesn't mean I have to make use of that option every time._

I nod and let my fingers continue their exploration. His groin is warmer than his thighs, and the closer I get to his sex, the warmer it gets. I touch the brim of his underwear and slide a finger beneath it, dragging it all the way from his scrotum up to his hip. I watch him grow inside his briefs, and I touch his sex through the fabric, stroking the length of him down to his balls and up again. I pull down his underwear, and he quickly slides them off.

"You don't have to do this, Bella. You don't have to touch my cock if you don't want to."

I smile at him, unsure of what to answer. I try to divert the conversation to some other issue, but the only thing that pops into my head has to do with word usage.

"So… is that what you call it? Is that the word I should use, too?"

"What, you mean cock? Are you discussing penis euphemisms?"

I hide my face in my hands, embarrassed and probably red like a traffic light. I hear the smile in his voice as he continues to speak, and I know he is going to tease me about this.

"Bella, you can use the word _cock_ if you want to. Actually, you can do it right now, as an exercise. Let me hear you use this new word in a sentence, Bella."

I mumble inaudibly into my hands. I feel a smile spread across my face, because when I think of it this is kind of funny. I'm still embarrassed, but he is teasing me and I want to get back at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that. Can you please articulate a little better, and maybe, just maybe, talk without your hands in front of your face? I think that would help your ability to communicate."

I remove my hands and look him straight in the eyes, take a deep breath, and use that word in a sentence, exactly like he wanted.

"Edward, I want to touch your cock."

His eyes grow big and he gasps, his erection twitching in reaction to my voice as I say this. He groans and closes his eyes.

"Jesus, Bella, are you trying to kill me? Hearing you say that is… you have no idea what that does to me!"

"Oh, I think I do know…"

I lay my head on his chest again, letting my fingers do a little silly walk from his belly button to his erect cock. They climb up on the head and walk around, tapping the ridge with tiny finger-steps before continuing down the length of him. His erection is slightly bent to the right, and I see the veins running along it, making his cock look like a pumped up muscle of some sort. It is almost amusing, and I giggle a little because it really looks… weird. I haven't seen it in such a long time; I have forgotten what it looks like and now it feels like I'm watching a strange and unusual creature.

I put my hand around the base and stroke all the way up to the head, letting my thumb slide over the slit where some clear liquid is seeping out. My amusement is turning into concern. It feels strange touching him, I feel inexperienced and I don't remember how to touch a man this way. I used to be an expert, but I have efficiently erased that knowledge from my brain.

I sit up and clear my throat, embarrassed by what I'm about to say.

"Edward, I don't remember how to… do this."

He opens his eyes and watches me with soft eyes.

"Do you want me to show you?"

I nod quietly, and he removes my hand from his erection, placing it on his chest instead. I watch as he grabs his cock and slowly strokes it up and down, twitching his hand a little at the head. As he increases the speed, I stop him and place my hand under his. He begins the stroking again, this time holding my hand in place around him, helping me to apply the correct pressure and speed. He is watching me as I keep my eyes on our hands stroking him, and I hear him moan quietly. I feel a shudder ripple through his erection as he releases over his bare stomach. I grab a tissue from the nightstand, and clean up the worst of the sticky mess.

_I did it!_

I feel victorious. I held him in my hand, and I made him cum. I did it. He sighs, grabs me and holds me close.

"Thank you, Bella."

He lets go of me and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. "I need a shower. Will you join me? I promise I'll behave."

I smile at him and follow him into the bathroom, all memories of my bad dream mercifully forgotten.


	15. Storms and Suspension Bridges

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my awesome betas!**

* * *

**_Storms and Suspension Bridges_**

Showering together turns out to be quite nice. It has been a while since we've done that. In our first apartment we had a huge shower, and we took every opportunity to use it together. Edward used to gently wash my body with a bath poof, and draw patterns with his fingers in the creamy lather on my skin. Feeling his soft and soapy hands trail down my body always made me shiver with lust. I realize it still does, and I revel in that discovery as I shower with Edward in the small, cramped cubicle we have now.

The next day Esme and Carlisle bring the kids back. Both Kate and Benji had a great time, but being away overnight has made them clingy. Even though it was very nice to have some alone-time with Edward, I missed them so much, and want to spend every minute with them now that they are home again. Benji is constantly hanging around my legs, and wants me to cuddle him. Kate has a million things to tell and never stops talking. Together, the kids give me and Edward very little time to talk to each other.

I don't really mind having Benji climbing at me the entire time. I carry him around, smelling his hair and nuzzling his soft cheeks, while listening to Kate's stories about all the exciting things she did with her grandparents. Once in a while Edward leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek, and Benji forcefully pushes him away every time.

"No daddy, t'is _my_ mommy!" He exclaims, with his small eyebrows creased. Benji's face shines in triumph as Edward walks away, and he celebrates his small victory by giving me a big, wet kiss. I shake my head at him and smile, because I think he is cute beyond words when he does that.

x.x.x

As good as last week ended, with touching and showering together, as bad the next week starts. I can sense Edward's mood shift, and tension is growing in the air. Edward is annoyed with something, and I have no idea what is bothering him so much. The more irritated and angry he gets, the more I avoid him. I hate when he is in this mood, it makes me nervous and wary. His patience with the kids is wearing thin, and he snaps at them for virtually no reason at all. It has been a while since he's been like this, but I know immediately where it's headed when I hear him curse, huff and growl over tiny mishaps.

For a long time, this was his everyday behaviour, up until a few months ago. During the worst period of our marriage, Edward was like this most days. The kids got the worst part of it. Not that he ever laid hands on them, but he was constantly mad at them for something, and it seemed like they could do nothing right in his opinion. They ate too slowly or messily, they didn't get dressed fast enough, they made too much noise, or they made a mess with their toys. Things that are quite normal for kids became a problem for Edward.

I feel myself disappear from reality again, getting more and more introverted with each day that passes. I don't think he is angry at me, but since he gives me no explanations, I'm not entirely sure. I try to avoid his temper by busying myself with the kids, and having them in my arms makes me feel like I have a shield that is protecting us from his glares. At night, when the kids are asleep, I withdraw to our bedroom or turn inwards, retreating to my "bubble".

My body is getting tenser by the minute, and the familiar constriction in my chest is returning in full force. It's like I have my frayed nerves on the outside, and when Edward is nearby my hyper sensitive skin reacts to his closeness, urging me to back away. I don't know how to act around Edward when he is angry. I feel like I'm out in stormy weather, trying to cross a wild river on an old suspension bridge. The bridge is swinging back and forth, and some of the boards are decayed. I fear, with every step I take, that I will fall through, down into the whirling water.

The week is passing by like this. We are drifting apart, Edward is in a bad mood, and I try to avoid it by making myself invisible. When Friday arrives, it all collapses. Dinner is ready and served, the kids are cleaned up and sitting at the table. Edward has spent the entire afternoon playing games at his computer. I tap his shoulder to get his attention, and he twirls around.

"What!" He snaps at me. He has an angry crease on his forehead, and I can see the veins pulsing at his temples. I instinctively back away.

"Dinner's ready. We're already at the table." My voice is cracking, and before I can say anything else he turns to the computer again.

"Yeah, I'll be there. Just wait a minute."

I go back to the table, put food on my plate and serve the kids. I cut Benji's food into small pieces and blow on it to cool it down. After giving Kate some vegetables, I start to eat, and halfway through the meal there is still no Edward at the table. I sigh and go back into the living room.

"What?" He hisses at me.

"Edward, your dinner is getting cold and the kids are almost finished. What is taking you so long?" I'm starting to feel a little pissed off right now. I've been cooking him dinner and he doesn't even have the decency to join us. He is playing a fucking computer game, and I can't understand how that can be more important than eating with his family.

"I'm coming, stop nagging me!"

I look at him, and go back to the table without a word. I finish my meal in the company of my kids, and put our plates in the dish washer. I leave the pots on the table for Edward, and take the kids to our bedroom to read them a story. As we cuddle up in our bed, I hear Edward warm his now cold food in the microwave. When the story is finished the kids are getting sleepy, and I brush their teeth before putting them to bed. Edward is back by his computer, and before I can stop myself I make a sour remark as I pass him.

"Wow, Edward, thanks for the lack of company tonight. It was really nice to not have you at the table."

I curse inside as the words spill out of my mouth. This is not going to make things better. I watch him turn to me, and I hold my breath.

"Likewise, Bella. Although you seem to be more than happy with the company of the kids, so who am I to interfere with that?"

I hear the biting irony in his voice; it is dripping with acid and eating its way into my chest.

"What the… what kind of lame excuse is that? It would have been nice to have some company, you know, or at least a helping hand once in a while."

He laughs bitterly at me.

"Are you implying that I don't do my share at home? As far as I recall, we've been splitting things rather equally these past months."

"Yeah, you've been a regular housemaid this week…"

"What, like you would have noticed if I did anything at home anyway! If it didn't include the kids, you wouldn't be interested." His reply baffles me, and I stare at him, desperately searching for words to hurt him with.

"Well, at least one of us acknowledged the kids this week! They were away for the weekend, so forgive me for missing them while they were gone. It doesn't seem like _you_ did, though. I'm sure the kids would appreciate to spend some time with their father, even if it's only for dinner. You might want to try it once in a while."

Before he has a chance to answer I turn around and flee from this conversation. I don't like the way we become in these situations. We have been here so many times before, his bad temper is making me pass snotty remarks, and he is answering with acid and irony. I run to our bedroom and slide down under the duvet. I can still smell the kids on the sheets: Kate's strawberry shampoo and a hint of that special outdoorsy, sunburnt scent that their skin gets from being out in the sun. I curl up and try to relax. As I listen to Edward hammering the keyboard, tears are slowly trickling down my cheeks. I feel so disappointed, in both him and me. This is how our life once used to be, and I can't believe how easily we fell back to that. I focus on my breathing, inhale the scent of the kids, and let my thoughts wander.

_Why did it come to this? What is his problem, anyway?_

I think back on our week, trying to make sense of it all.

_Did I do something, or w_ _as it something that I didn't do?_

I have a creeping feeling that I could have avoided this whole thing. I replay the week in my head, putting it on repeat and rewind. As I watch us, in retrospect, I notice my own behaviour clearly. I spent a lot of time with the kids when they got home, and as his temper got worse I stayed out of his way, spending even more time with the kids. I haven't exactly been communicating with him.

He hasn't been very talkative either, and even though I think he could have told me from the beginning what his bad mood was all about, I haven't been much better myself. Edward isn't the one to communicate very much when we have trouble in our marriage, I know that. I could have asked him, but instead I tried to hide. My guess is that my avoiding him only made things worse. We have gone about this all wrong, both of us.

_This is silly, we are grown ups for God's sake!_

I rise from the bed, and as I pass through the hallway to the living room a sick feeling is rising in the pit of my stomach. Edward is sitting on the couch watching TV, and he doesn't even look at me when I stop by his side. I clear my throat, and he still doesn't look at me. I sigh, brace myself, and begin to talk.

"Are you still mad at me?" He doesn't answer, he just sits there. I know, despite his posture and the distant look in his eyes, that he's listening to me. He fiddles with the remote, switching channels randomly.

_He is as nervous about this as I am._

I keep talking, and sit down next to him.

"I'm not mad anymore. I'm sorry for the things I said, they were… not necessary."

He takes a deep breath, runs his hands through his hair, and turns to me.

"Yeah, I kind of got out of line, too."

_Thank God, he's talking to me._

"What's been going on this week? You've been in a bad mood."

He rubs his face, and then pinches his nose with burrowed brows.

"I don't know, exactly. There were these feelings, and I didn't know how to deal with them. I guess I've been an ass, right? I don't like myself when I'm acting like that, but I don't know how to stop."

I look at my hands, plucking at nearly invisible knots at my sweater.

"Well… what kind of feelings? Were you angry at me? It seemed like you were."

"No, I wasn't. Well, actually I was a little mad, maybe. I don't know. I just felt… cut out."

I stare at him.

"What, how? What do you mean?"

"It's just that we had this great weekend, all by ourselves, and then the kids came back, and it was like I didn't exist for you anymore. Benji was all over you, and Kate was babbling like a maniac, and I got nothing. I felt lonely."

I sit quiet for a while. I did spend a lot of time with the kids, because I really missed them when they were away, and I had to refuel some love from them. And then I spent even more time with them, to avoid my angry husband, which apparently made him feel lonely and left out. I nod slowly, because it all makes sense now.

"I'm sorry you felt lonely. I didn't mean for that to happen, I just… I missed the kids a lot and needed to be close to them."

"I get that, and I realize I'm being childish, but I'm actually jealous. They got to hug you and kiss you, and I didn't."

"Oh. Why didn't you just say something?"

"I don't know. Why did you stay away from me all week?"

"I… I don't like it when you are angry." I whisper, with my eyes closed, and continue in a low and unsteady voice.

"When you seemed to be so mad, I kind of preferred their company. Even if I know that you're not mad at me, it still makes me feel nervous and tense. It makes me feel sick. I don't handle other people's anger that well, I guess."

"So… my anger bothers you that much? I didn't realize… I'm angry a lot, aren't I?"

"Not so much, now. But you used to be."

He sighs, and slumps his shoulders.

"I'm sorry…" He whispers. A single tear is glimmering in the corner of his eye, and I wipe it away with my index finger.

"Bella? Maybe we could use some counselling, both of us. I mean, you have your issues, and I have mine. Being angry like this, it's not good. I'm making things worse for you, and I need to stop that."

"I guess so… Would you do that for me?"

"Yeah, I think that would be good. I'm sorry, Bella. I screwed up."

"It's fine. I screwed up too, remember?"

I lean my head against his shoulder, and close my eyes. The sickness in my stomach is subsiding, and my tense chest is loosening up. My skin is less sensitive, and being close to Edward doesn't feel bad anymore. I take a deep breath, inhaling his scent.

The suspension bridge I felt like I was crossing is stable, the wild river below is peaceful, and the storm has calmed down. I feel good.


	16. Exposure and Erotica

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my awesome betas, and to MsRobPattzMasen for prereading! Oh, and don't forget to check out the new fic I'm writing with JillM12 and Netracullen: Smutiversity www . fanfiction s/6034948/1/Smutiversity**

**Also, thanks to TaraSueMe for letting me use "Turpentine". If you haven't read her stories, you really need to. Seriously, you do.**

* * *

_**Exposure and Erotica**_

**To:** Jacob Black  
 **From:** Bella Swan  
 **Subject:** Crazy person!

Hi Jakey-boy, all good with you?  
Need your help. Turns out I'm a nut-head after all.  
Got any good counsellor persons to get my mind straight?  
Preferably one with experience in PPD, that also does  
couples counselling. Yeah, that's right. Couples counselling.  
Turns out I'm not the only nut in the family…

Love you hard.

/B

I stifle a yawn, click send, and head to the bathroom. Edward is already in bed. We're both exhausted from this week's tension, not to mention the show-down tonight. It wasn't pretty, but we managed to get through eventually. I feel bad for showing him so little attention, and he feels bad for being jealous of Kate and Benji. I brush my teeth, check on the kids one last time, and slide down next to Edward. He's not asleep yet, so I turn to him.

"Edward? Next time you feel lonely because I spend too much time with the kids, can you please tell me that in a nice way? I don't want it to get out of hand like that again. And I really need you to tell me how you feel."

He turns towards me, strokes my hair, and fiddles with the strands.

"I promise. And next time you feel uncomfortable because I'm too angry, can you tell me that? In a nice way, of course?" He gives me a lopsided grin, and I sigh before answering. This is a hard one, actually. I've tried to tell him when he was out of line a few times before, and I'd prefer not doing it again. He didn't take it very well.

"I guess I can, but I don't really know how to say it. I don't want to use the wrong words, because sometimes when I've done that, it only got worse."

"Oh… I'm sorry, I guess I'm not very perceptive when I'm like that. It's like I get lost in the feeling, and get wound up even more. Maybe you can just say something totally random, like a signal or something, so I know I'm crossing the line?"

"Um, sure. You mean like a secret word, or something?"

"Right, and if it's so random you'd never use it in that context anyway, I'll know you're not trying to say something just to piss me off. And since nobody else knows what it's about, we can use it around other people as well, and I don't have to feel like you're… telling me off publicly, or something. Do you think that can work?"

"Sure. What word?"

"How about… Turpentine?"

I stare at him, incredulously, because that's a really odd word to chose. Random, yes, but very odd.

"What the… _turpentine_? Seriously? Well, at least it's random… So, turpentine it is. How did you even come up with that?"

"I don't know, really. I think I read it somewhere… Or I probably saw it in the garage or something. I just got an image of the bottle in my head."

I shake my head and smile before I turn my back at him to get into my sleeping position.

"You are weird sometimes, you know that, right?"

"You too. Good night, Bella!"

I wake up early in the morning, just before sunrise. The kids aren't awake, and since I can't go back to sleep I decide to fire up the computer. I make myself a cup of tea while I wait to get online, and then I log on to my email account. Jake has replied, and I smile as I open it up.

**To:** Bella Swan  
 **From:** Jacob Black  
 **Subject:** Told you so…

See, I knew you weren't correctly manufactured, brain wise…  
Of course I can give you a few names if you need some mental  
mending. So, PPD, huh? That is a bitch… Is E on board for this?  
He needs to be supportive if you're going to get better. Tell him  
to call me if he wants to know more about the anxiety. It might be  
easier for me to explain how it works, since I've been there a lot.  
Give me a call, and I'll get you some names and numbers!

You know I like it hard…

/J

I snicker at his last line. Nobody can make a dirty answer to a completely innocent sentence like he does. Well, maybe me, in the old days. The bantering between us could go on, and on, and on, and apparently it still does. I'm glad he offered to talk to Edward about the anxiety; even if I'm not sure Edward would take him up on that one. Jake is right about it being hard to explain, because I haven't really figured it out yet. Of course, one person's anxiety is not the same as another's, and the reasons for the anxiety vary a lot. Still, some things are common, and if Edward knows a bit more about how it affects me, it will be easier for him to understand, and not feel so rejected.

I think counselling would be a good thing, for both of us. I prefer to solve things on my own, and I think I've made some real progress, but we still need help if this change is going to last. I'm kind of proud of myself, though.

**To:** Jacob Black  
 **From:** Bella Swan  
 **Subject:** I'm quite handy, pun totally intended.

Well, I seem to be crafty when it comes to mending my own  
mental manufacturing faults. I'm happy to report that there  
has been touching going on recently. In x-rated places, too, as  
a matter of fact: with me being the touch-er, and him being  
the touch-ee, so to speak. Hopefully I'll be able to turn the  
tables soon. Would be nice to enjoy being touched again.  
*singing corny Samantha Fox hit from -86: "Touch  
me, touch me, I wanna feel your body…"*

In your dreams, bb!

/B

I spend some time searching the latest news, and surprisingly enough, when I'm halfway through an article of a serial killer in Seattle, Jake's reply arrives. _Is he awake this early?_ I yawn and read.

**To:** Bella Swan

**From:** Jacob Black

**Subject:** Oh yes, in my dreams

I remember those dexterous hands of yours. Your voice singing  
Sam Fox is definitely something I want to erase from my mind,  
though. Please be quiet. *puts in earplugs*

How about your dreams?

/J

_Yeah… How about my dreams? And how about Edwards?_

I do still have dreams. More than that, I still have sex dreams. They are not gracing my sleep frequently though, and most of the time I wake up before I get to the fun stuff. I rarely dream about Edward, unfortunately. It's always someone else, mostly celebrities, girls, and occasionally one of my old regular boys from back in the day, the ones I actually enjoyed having sex with. Jake has made a few appearances in them, and it always makes me feel guilty. I wish I would dream about Edward.

Sometimes, when I wake up from a dream like that, I think about waking him up. I always chicken out, unfortunately. I try to will myself to approach him, but then I can't muster up the courage to actually do it, and end up being lonely. At least that's what I used to do, because to be honest, it has changed. He's not mad as often anymore, and I'm better at telling him what I want. Last night I even spoke to him, even though he was in a bad mood. If last night had happened a year ago, we would've just tiptoed around each other, saying nothing at all, making it worse every day until indifference took over.

I don't really know how to answer Jake's question. I could steer clear of the serious issue underlying his bantering, by keeping the focus on wet dreams and sexual fantasies. That would be the easy way. Jake was always easily distracted by me telling him about my fantasies, especially if they included me with other women. On the other hand, I know he wouldn't let it go. One way or the other he would bring it up again, because he always knows what the crux of the matter is.

And he is right, of course. He knows about the dreams I used to have, what I wanted for myself in the long run. I need to figure out what I dream of now, and not in the sexual context. Well, that could probably help, too. I sigh, and start typing.

**To:** Jacob Black  
 **From:** Bella Swan  
 **Subject:** Not those kinds of dreams

I haven't dreamt in a long time. But if I think about it now,  
I dream about being the way we used to be, Edward and I.  
I dream about feeling in love, horny and happy. I dream  
about holding hands and sitting next to him on the couch,  
falling asleep against his shoulder. But also, I dream about  
craving his touch, needing his kisses and wanting his – well,  
you know ;)

No, you're not in those dreams…

/B

I don't have to wait long for his reply this time either.

**To:** Bella Swan  
 **From:** Jacob Black  
 **Subject:** Glad I'm not in them…

… because I don't ever want to be close to his – well, you know :(  
Girl, you need to take his hand and get back there on the sofa. Oh,  
and maybe watch some porn to get in the mood… I can send you  
some useful pics of me in compromising positions! Or maybe you  
just check out Edward's porn stash in the computer. I'm sure he has  
one, because he's a dude. Or at least I think he is, being the father of  
your children and all…

Good dream-hunting!

/J

He has a point, there. Maybe that _would_ get me in the mood… I guess this is a good time for some porn searching, since Edward and the kids still are asleep. I know he has a stash somewhere, and it doesn't take me long to find a folder called "Edward" in a really strange place. As I open it I see three different sub-folders, and I think for a while. If I was to hide something from him, I'd most likely put it in a folder labelled with something he'd never be interested in. His folders are labelled "Pictures", "Movies" and "Games". I chose the game folder, and there it is. Edward's porn stash is displayed in front of me, and I feel like a sly private investigator for having found it.

I start browsing the pictures. One girl is appearing quite often, apparently he likes her. I'm a bit surprised by it, because she looks nothing like the porn stars I've imagined. She seems to be between 18 and 20, and she has long brown hair and brown eyes. Her boobs are small, probably the same size mine were before breastfeeding. She looks like an average girl next door, well, a pretty one at least. There aren't a lot of men in his pictures, only an occasional penis doing its business with the girl.

I'm not sure penis is the correct word to use in this context, though. Edward uses the word cock. I just can't get used to it, although it is obviously a lot sexier than penis. I don't know what to call my own genitalia, either. Cooter or beaver is too funny, and pussy is like cock, just too much… porn. I never used to have problems with those words, and now they are nothing but a reminder of things I don't want to think about. I'm being silly, I know. I should just get used to the words, since they are the ones Edward prefers. If I repeat them often enough they'll probably feel less harsh.

Some of the pictures are girl on girl action, and I don't mind that at all. That has always been a frequent fantasy of mine, and it is slightly reassuring that Edward seems to enjoy the idea, even if it's something that will never happen in real life. I feel a familiar stirring in my nether regions – _my pussy_ \- as I click on picture after picture. The kids are still asleep, and I'm beginning to wonder if I should get back into bed and wake Edward up for some early morning affection. I smile, because it would be fantastic if I could actually pull that off. Considering the tingling down below I'm more than ready, that's for sure. I've just decided to shut down the porn stash as a new picture appears, and I freeze.

_What the fuck is this?_

I raise my hand to cover my mouth, and stare wide-eyed at the picture that is revealed on the screen. A fairly young girl with strawberry blond hair is standing by a wall, with her arms and legs spread wide, her wrists and ankles shackled to some sort of bars. She is naked, and her eyes are covered with a black blindfold. There is a man standing in front of her, holding a whip in his hands. The girl has several red marks over her breasts and abdomen, and a quiet sob rises in my chest as I realize he's whipping her.

I keep browsing with increasing heart rate, and my blood is pumping furiously through my veins. I see girl after girl, gagged, bound, and tied up in seriously weird positions. I see nipples pinched by strange metal clips, whips and benches in dark rooms, girls in cages and girls hanging with their hands tied to weird devices in the ceiling. Some of the things I see, I don't even understand what they are for.

My heart sinks into my belly, and I suddenly feel like throwing up. My hands are trembling, and I desperately want to stop looking, but I can't avert my eyes. I look at every single picture, and all I can see is girls being exposed and abused. When I look at this, I don't see sex, or even porn. I see hurt, restraint, force, abuse and violence.

_Is this what he wants?_

I stare at the pictures. I'm uncomfortable, sad and angry, and suddenly very frightened.

_Does he want to do this to me?_

_Does he want to hurt me, to abuse me?_

The pictures stir things in my memories that I don't want to think about, and I wish I never opened that stupid folder.

_How the_ _hell am I going to handle this?_

I slump down over the keyboard, putting my head heavily in my hands. I close my eyes, as if not looking at the pictures will make them disappear.

Suddenly, I hear a low gasp behind my back. I open my eyes slowly and turn around. Standing behind me, with a horrified expression on his ashen face, is Edward. His voice is strained and filled with pain as he speaks.

"Bella, what the f… what are you _doing_?"


	17. Love and Lust

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just borrowed the names. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. ©2010 SwedenSara. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**Thank you JillM12 and netracullen, my awesome betas, and to MsRobPattzMasen for prereading! Oh, and don't forget to check out the new fic I'm writing with JillM12 and Netracullen: Smutiversity www . fanfiction s/6034948/1/Smutiversity**

* * *

_**Love and Lust**_

x.x.x

_**EPOV**_

"Bella? Answer me! What are you doing, and why are you looking at my pictures?"

My voice is trembling, from both fear and anger. Fear of what she's thinking right now, having seen the pictures I've been trying to hide from her. Anger, for the fact that she's been searching my private folders. It feels like a violation of trust, like she's been reading my diary, figuratively speaking. I'm afraid and I'm furious, and I don't really know which feeling to go with.

Bella is staring at me, with wide eyes. She opens her mouth as if she's trying to say something, but not a word comes out. Somehow she looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a racing car, and the sight slowly diminishes my anger. I step closer to her and raise my hand pleadingly, but she inhales quickly and jumps off the chair. She backs away from me, and I turn to the computer instead, closing the picture on the screen and the folder they are located in. _How the hell did she find them? And why was she rummaging through my files anyway?_ The anger is rising in my chest again, and I clench my jaw and wait for her to say something.

Bella is still not speaking. She is standing behind the coffee table, wringing her hands, with a frightened expression on her face. I notice an angry crease on her forehead, and I realize she looks exactly as I feel: scared and angry. Her breathing is fast and shallow, her skin is pale and she's got faint dark circles under her eyes. Suddenly I wonder why she looks so tired, and how long she's been awake. It's still quite early in the morning, and she obviously has spent some time by the computer, considering she found all these pictures. An image is slowly entering my mind. I see Bella, alone by the computer, watching picture after picture. I know these pictures by heart, and I'm certain they are not something that she would like her husband to watch, considering her issues with sex and touching. _Shit. She must be terrified._

"Bella…" I whisper. "Please, say something. I'm so sorry you had to see that. Bella?"

Her facial expression suddenly changes, the fear subsides and a soft smile takes its place. For a brief moment I think that the look on her face is meant for me, but then I see Benji in the corner of my eye. _Go figure._ His little feet are padding towards her, and she lifts him up. He puts his small arms around her neck, clinging to her like a tiny spider monkey.

"Hey Benji, are you awake already?" Her voice is tender and loving, and she caresses his back.

"Mommy, I'm hungry." I hear him mumble into her neck, and she carries him towards the kitchen. Her steps falter when she passes me, and she finally says something.

"I don't understand, Edward. Those pictures I saw… they frighten me."

_Of course she is scared. Fuck._

_I have some serious explaining to do, and I don't know how to tell her about it._

_On the other hand, so does she._

Benji is demanding her attention, and for once I'm thankful for his being the momma's boy that he is, because it is buying me some time to think this through. I jump into the shower, feeling the hot water loosen my tense shoulders and the moist air fill my lungs. The water is cascading down my body, washing away the worries. I decide that there is a solution to all of this. There has to be. She probably had a good reason for looking in my folders, because she would never do something like that with the intention of violating me. We just need to talk about this. She can explain what she was doing, and I can explain what those pictures mean to me. Well, at least I can try. I'm not sure if she'll understand.

I spend a considerate amount of time in the shower, just because it's so damned nice and I need to think. About half an hour later I'm done, showered and dressed, and I smell freshly made coffee from the kitchen. Bella always drinks tea in the mornings, and I usually go with whatever she makes, even though I'd prefer a cup of coffee. I guess I'm just too lazy to do it myself. She knows this, and I realize she made this coffee just for me. This is a way of saying "I'm sorry," and I smile as I pour myself a cup. I sit down next to Benji. Kate is up as well, eating breakfast in her PJs. She smiles at me and points at my cup of coffee.

"Mommy and I made this for you. Do you like it?"

"Of course I like it, honey. You and your mother always know how to make me happy, right?"

"Yes, we do! You like orange juice, too, but we didn't have any."

"Well, coffee is just what I needed, so thank you for that!"

"Guess what, mommy told me that maybe we can go to grandma Renée today, and stay there the entire night. It'll be like a sleepover!"

I stare at Kate, and I'm suddenly terrified that this means Bella is leaving me, that she wants to stay with her parents as well.

"Um…" Bella clears her throat. "I was thinking I could take the kids to visit my parents, and that maybe they could stay there for the day. We could, you know, maybe talk a little while they're gone. I haven't asked my mom yet, though."

_Oh. So that's what she was thinking. She is not leaving; she's just trying to find a way to talk about this._

This conversation is not something I'd like to have with the kids around, anyway. It's actually a great idea, even if I'm still a bit worried. When the kids aren't around there is also the risk of the discussion being more heated, and I'm not particularly keen on having a full-blown argument. I nod appreciatively at her, sipping my coffee.

A few hours later I hear the car on the driveway, as Bella returns from her parents. I'm getting a bit anxious, knowing Bella is going to want me to explain. I still don't know what to say, I really haven't thought about why those pictures turn me on. The idea of bondage, in particular, is something that has been in my fantasies for a long time. I've never told anyone about them, but I always hoped for us to be able to explore that together. There is something about the willingness to completely put yourself at someone else's mercy, allow them to give you pleasure, to trust them completely with all of you... I would like for Bella to trust me like that, to be completely mine, letting me dominate her, guide her, and show her how much pleasure she can feel. I want to give her the freedom of just receiving pleasure, without feeling that she has to give something back to me.

I just don't know how to tell her this.

x.x.x

_**BPOV**_

I pull up on the driveway, and turn off the car. I stay seated for a few minutes, breathing slowly, gathering the courage to go inside and face the conversation I'm so afraid of. I have no idea what to expect. The pictures I found could very easily just be nothing but some unimportant pictures that he happened to download once and never got around to deleting. Or, they could be the most important ones. If that's the case, I don't know what to think anymore. If he is turned on by watching women being hurt, then he's not the person I thought he was. And if this means he wants to hurt _me_ , then I don't think I can stay with him. So yes, I'm afraid of this conversation, because it could very easily change my life.

Edward is waiting for me, lying on his back on the bed. I lie down beside him and pull my knees up, wrapping myself with a blanket. We look at each other, neither of us wanting to take the first step. I feel I should explain why I was looking at those pictures in the first place, because I really shouldn't have done that. They were his, and if he was going through stuff in my folders I'd probably be mad at him. I know I owe him an apology.

"So, Bella… what were you doing, this morning?"

I take a deep breath, and try to explain.

"I… I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have looked at those pictures. It was a stupid thing to do, but I…" My voice trails off, and I don't know how to continue.

"Well, why were you, then? I don't get it." He frowns and runs his hands through his hair. I feel the smell of his shampoo drifting towards me, and it's a safe smell that makes me calm. I breathe deeply again.

"I couldn't sleep, and I was emailing with Jake about depression and stuff, and I felt bad for… you know, for not wanting to have sex. So I got this idea that maybe I could get in the mood or something. And I thought about your pictures, which I _swear_ I haven't looked at before, but I knew you had them. I thought they could help me, that I'd get turned on, and that it would be a nice surprise for you if I came to you and we could… Anyway, it was stupid. I shouldn't have done that."

I'm rambling, and I must sound completely incoherent, because Edward is staring at me.

"What, you wanted to surprise me, with sex? In the morning?"

"Um… yeah." I'm starting to feel a little embarrassed.

"That's why you went through my porn stash?"

"I guess…"

"Huh… Well, thanks, I think. I mean, it didn't quite go according to plan, but it was a nice thought."

He looks oddly confused, but the anger I heard in his voice earlier is gone. I'm quiet, waiting for him to speak again. I feel relieved, since I've explained myself, and he doesn't seem angry about it.

"You know, the pictures you saw… I don't know what to say about them." He looks lost, trying to find the words and not succeeding. "What do you want to know? We can do… like twenty questions or something. Only, you ask me all the questions."

I sigh. This is it, I'm getting my answers. There is no point in delaying it.

"Ok, so twenty questions it is. Do they turn you on?"

"Yes, they do."

I think for a few seconds before I ask the next question. "Have you been into that kind of stuff for a long time?"

"Yes, I have."

"But why? That is violent! How can you be turned on while watching women being abused?"

"Um… It's not about abuse, Bella. It's about… I don't know how to explain it! I've come across some movies by mistake with girls actually being hurt, like in reality, and I tell you, that is absolutely disgusting, and just… just fucking _wrong_. I hated that and wanted to bleach my eyes after seeing it. But the thing you saw, that is not about abuse." He covers his face and shakes his head, clearly frustrated.

I'm doing a poor job at not letting my indignation show. "Well, abuse and violence is what I see in those pictures. I see hurt, and force, and _pain_ , and… I don't get it! Do you want to hurt me?"

"Shit, of course not! I'd never hurt you! I just… I wish that you'd trust me. I'm not that into _all_ those things, most of them I just like to watch, and I like to read about it, but I'd never dream of acting everything out. Maybe I like it because it's a bit dirty, taboo, you know. The thing about bondage, though, it's a bit different…"

"What, how do you mean, different?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Bella, this is going to sound… weird and harsh and I don't know how to say it without you hearing the wrong things. But I kind of like the idea of… dominance. That's what the bondage is about, for me." He looks at me. His face is troubled and I can hear in his voice that this is important to him.

"Well, I still don't understand why you'd want me to be tied up. What's the point if I can't even move? That has to be boring sex, right?" I've always believed that men like their women to be active in bed. Being tied up definitely prevents you from being active.

"Well, that's kind of the point. You can't avoid anything, and I'm I charge."

"Okay, I'm really uncomfortable with the idea that you want to force me, and that there is no way for me to escape."

He sighs and touches my face lightly and I close my eyes, letting myself feel his soft caress. This thing he is saying, it doesn't add up with the way he touches me.

"I suck at explaining this to you… I don't want to force you to do anything, Bella, and this is not something we need to do, ever, it's just a fantasy of mine. I can't really help thinking about it, but I can live without actually doing it, you know."

His words make me feel safe again. I do believe him, because Edward would never hurt me. I know that deep in my heart, and I feel it in my entire being.

"Explain this domination thing. I can understand it theoretically, that you want me to let you decide over my body. But I mean, you never do anything without asking me first, you always let me decide things even if I practically beg you to make a decision, you consult me on everything… why do you want to dominate me when it comes to sex? Is it just a general wish to be more… in demand of things?"

"Um, I don't know really. I haven't analyzed it like that; it's just the way I am. I've never thought about it. But maybe you're right."

A thought enters my mind as I'm contemplating this. _Maybe I'm to blame for some of this?_

"Am I too dominating in this marriage, you know, otherwise?"

"Maybe… but I allow that, so that's kind if my own fault, right? Because I do let you make all the decisions. If you decide everything, then I have no responsibility for things, and that's really easy for me. It's not very fair to you, I realize now… I'm leaving everything to you, and then kind of just tag along. That's not good."

I smile slightly at him, because he is absolutely right. "Yeah, you kind of do that… Maybe if you are more decisive in everyday life, you won't feel… this need? Because to be honest, I don't think I want to be restrained in that kind of way. I… have some issues with that."

"I understand how you can see violence and abuse in those pictures, Bella, but trust me, that is not something I would ever do. I would never, ever, hurt you. When people engage in this kind of… games, it's always consensual. Even if the dominant one is calling the shots, the submissive is the one that decides what he or she wants to accept. You have this word, a safe word, and whenever one of you says it, the game has to stop. And that rule is not ever to be broken. It's all about trust, you know. And that is what I wish… that you'd trust me." He sighs and takes my hand. He silently plays with my wedding ring and twirls it around my finger.

"I do trust you, Edward. I know you would never hurt me, I just… got scared and confused." I watch him as he fiddles with my fingers. "It freaked me out, because I love you, and I didn't recognise you in all of this."

He looks at me, stunned.

"I love you too, Bella. And you won't ever have to do something you're not comfortable with."

"I know, Edward."

We lie on the bed silently, watching each other for a long time, both of us in deep thought. I know that Edward never would do anything to hurt me, and I have a hard time joining the things I've always known about my husband, to the things I recently found out. What made me love Edward in the first place is the sense of security I got from being around him. He always made me feel secure, and even if my body has been reacting in a contradictory way lately, I still know that I am safe with him.

_Maybe I don't have to worry so much about this. Of course he doesn't want to hurt me._

I think about these things Edward fantasizes about, and what he dreams of. Maybe he is right, maybe it isn't about hurt and abuse. I still don't actually see how it can be about something else, but he says so, and I want to trust him.

I start to feel bad for dismissing his desires so abruptly. What if I'd told him about my fantasies, and he'd been the one reacting like I did? That would have made me feel horrible. If this is important to him, then maybe I need to at least try to understand it. Even if I can't meet his desires, I can embrace and accept them. And maybe, in the long run, I will be able to give him some of the things he wants. I have no idea how, since I barely can think about having regular vanilla sex with him yet, but I want to give that to him.

It would be a gift, from me to him, because I love him.


End file.
